Classic Poem

They stripped her in the market-place
And set her on the pyre;
The happy light of her young face
Set every heart afire,

And on the cold unkindled wood
Her body shone, a flame
So pure and white, the high-priest stood
Amazed with wondering shame:

The kindling torch quenched in his hand
He stayed as in a spell,
When from the heavens a flaming brand
Upon the faggots fell —

A flaming brand of blinding light,
And, even as men gazed,
A glory magical and bright
Through all the city blazed.

A moment earth like heaven shone;
Then soaring through the skies
The wonder of white flame was gone
From their astonished eyes:

And stricken blind the high-priest stood
Before the empty pyre,
While beggars stole the uncharred wood
To feed their winter's fire.