Light-winged Smoke, Icarian bird,
Melting thy pinions in thy upward flight,
Lark without song, and messenger of dawn,
Circling above the hamlets as thy nest;
Or else, departing dream, and shadowy form
Of midnight vision, gathering up thy skirts;
By night star-veiling, and by day
Darkening the light and blotting out the sun;
Go thou my incense upward from this hearth,
And ask the gods to pardon this clear flame.

Added: on February 17th, 2006 at 10:12 AM | Viewed: 6251 times | Comments (2)

Poet: Henry David Thoreau
Poem: Smoke
Poem of the Day: Apr 29 2003

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