River of Fire
What river of fire is that at the hill top,
No hill, for her heart, a mountain, indeed,
Perfect in that, a radiant crop,
That is, but itself, and will at that lead.
Where are you from, a star, an ocean, a deep green forest,
You, as you are, shall be as you are, shall be as to me,
A great triumph, a proud and honorable crest,
But, as if an angels call, you respond to me, that I no longer ask, what is she.