The Lament of the Moth
Before the fire, I flutter and roam, With flitting dreams I know them all— In circles soft, I rise from my home, To the orange blow of the fire’s thrall.
Each ember starts, and the flame, it seems, Beckons my light towards the end, Yet I am drawn with all my dreams, To the radiant warmth I dare to tend. —Sidney Lanier
- Sidney Lanier