Page:Poems Terry, 1861.djvu/60

     Burn, like an Indian pyre,
      With music fierce and loud.
Come Power! Love calls thee,—come, with all the god endowed!

     Immortal life in death,
      On these rapt eyes,
     On this quick, failing breath,"
      In dread and glory rise.
The altar waits thy torch,—come, touch the sacrifice!

     Come! not with gifts of life,
      Not for my good;
     My soul hath kept her strife
      In fear and solitude;
More blest the inverted torch, the horror-curdled blood.

     Better in light to die
      Than silent live;
     Rend from these lips one cry,
      One death-born utterance give,
Then, clay, in fire depart! then, soul, in heaven survive!