Smoke

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.