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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.
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