Light-winged Smoke,
Icarian bird,
Melting thy pinions in thy upward flight,
Lark without song, and messenger of dawn Circling above the hamlets as they 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.
