Arthur Christopher Benson

(1848-1922 / United States)

The Phoenix

BY feathers green, across Casbeen
   The pilgrims track the Phoenix flown,
By gems he strew'd in waste and wood,
   And jewell'd plumes at random thrown.

Till wandering far, by moon and star,
   They stand beside the fruitful pyre,
Where breaking bright with sanguine light
   The impulsive bird forgets his sire.

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