Wyndham Ketton-Cremer
The Phantom
See how that phantom stares,
Vacantly gazing
At the sudden starts and flares,
Of the fire blazing.
Sodden brushwood, mouldered wrecks of trees
Hide the huddled form;
The eyes are dulled, their griefs and ecstasies
Alike blown out through many years of storm.
Under the rotting branches see it stand,
Watching the brave wood roar to meet the fire.
Does light now flicker in those eyes? does hand
Clench with a final remnant of desire?
Pile on more wood! and let the flames leap far,
Reach the vile thing and drive it to its place.
Burn, burn, bright fire!
Yet still it crouches there,
Life waxing slowly in the livid face.
Page(s) 25
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