Smoke without fire! No thrill of tongues licks up The offerings in the cup. Dead falls desire. Black smoke thou art, O altar-flame, that dost dismember, Devour the hearth, to leave no ember To warm this heart. I see her still - Adela dancing here Till dim gods did appear To work our will.
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Smoke without fire! No thrill of tongues licks up The offerings in the cup. Dead falls desire. Black smoke thou art, O altar-flame, that dost dismember, Devour the hearth, to leave no ember To warm this heart. I see her still - Adela dancing here Till dim gods did appear To work our will.
Read Less
