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Oh, fire who purgeth us In fate-kindled strife, Thy beauty ruleth us, Shining with life! Still and meek in the glow of a taper in church, But in riot—tumultuous-tongued, Unmoved by wild prayers, multi-faced, Shot with color in walls overthrown, Mad with passion, and nimble and gay,— So triumphantly beautiful That my eyes are alight with thy joy Though thou feed on my own,— O fair Fire, all my dreams are devoted to thee! Eternally changeful, Thou art Protean-faced. Thou art smokily crimson In the bonfires' roar. Thou art as a flower of terror with petals of flame, A bright mane of radiant hair. In the tremulous flame of a taper thou burn'st First in blue, then in shuddering gold. In the silence of midsummer lightnings thou wak'st, Burning coldly in storm-burdened clouds, Eerily livid and dark.