Phoenix in my fireplace,

A golden bird with wings of flame.

Arisen from the ashes,

I wonder at your fiery grace.

Why do you hang your head in shame?

And why these fluttering dashes

About the room and chimney stack?

My life is brighter now you came.

Your wings like sunspot flashes,

Your beauty what I feel I lack.

You live a brief and golden life,

Your birth and death contained in ashes.

And as I watch you turn your back.

Your beak, like sharpest knife,

Tears ribbons from the window-blind.

What caused this fierce and vain attack?

Yet as I look I see your strife,

Though fault I cannot find.

For all your beauty, all your grace,

You know the death that is your life.