Fire-flies
ii.
fire-flies, would I knew the weft
You have the weaving of!
For, as I watch you move, bereft
Of thought or will or love,
I fear, O listless flames, you weave
The fates of men who strive and grieve.
The web of life, the weft of dreams,
You weave it ceaselessly;
A strange and filmy thing it seems,
And made in mystery
Of wind and darkness threaded through
With light these heavens never knew.
O pale, mysterious, wandering fire.
Born of the earth, alive
With the same breath that I respire.
Who know and think and strive ;
You circle round me, stranger far
Than any charm of any star !
iii.
Ah me, as faint as you, as slight.
As hopelessly remote
As you, who still across the night
Innumerably float,
Intangible as you, I see
The motives of our destiny.
For ah, no angel of the stars.
No guardian of the soul.
Stoops down beyond the heavenly bars
Our courses to control.
But filled and nourished with our breath
Are the dim hands that weave our death,
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