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Sonnets Of The Blood Vi

Rating: 3.0

The fire I praise was once perduring flame-
Till it snuffs with our generation out;
No matter, it's all one, it's but a name
Not as late honeysuckle half so stout;
So think upon it how the fire burns blue,
Its hottest, when the flame is all but spent;
Thank God the fuel is low, well not renew
That length of flame into our firmament;
Think too the rooftree crackles and will fall
On us, who saw the sacred fury's height-

Seated in her tall chair, with the black shawl
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