Classic Poem

Because her dark eyes loved the shades,
That rimmed the gold of every dell,
When listening to talking trees,
They said that she communed with Hell.

Because, with no interpreter,
Her soul was face to face with God,
They said she heard the Devil's words,
When walking flowered ways, untrod.

And when, poor fools, they seared her form,
And freed her soul with burning fire,
One, trembling, saw her spirit go,
On slender smoke wreaths rising higher.