Page:Collected poems Robinson, Edwin Arlington.djvu/64

 To the lore of no manner of men Would his vision have yielded When he found what will never again From his vision be shielded,— Though he paid with as much of his life As a nun could have given, And to-night would have been as a knife, Devil-drawn, devil-driven. For to-night, with his flame-weary eyes On the work he is doing, He considers the tinder that flies And the quick flame pursuing.