Does every Pride of evening smoke

A torch in a muffled motion

Even without that immortal puff

Being able to defer its abandonment!

The ancient chamber of the heir

Of many a rich and fallen trophy

Would not even be heated

If he arose by the corridor

Necessary pangs of the days that were

Grip as if with claws

The sepulcher of denial

Under a heavy marble which it isolates

It does not light any other fire

Than the brilliant console

04/11/2008