For thinking evil and planning shame
The fire licked upward — at first a name,
Then star-devouring rebellious flame.
The dread light lingered high on the sky.
It grew and reddened — a voiceless cry.
It spread and touched us, we knew not why.
And a man sat staring out to the night,
Through tender silence, in warm lamplight,
Thinking always, “The fire at height!”
That fire blowing with growing roar
Saw us going, closing the door;
Saw us parted — who meet no more.
For thinking evil — all men drawn
Against a devil that dusked the dawn.
Each to his station. All men gone.
Some for the hilltop, fire to its brow,—
Death, long torture,— some for the plough,—
Some for the silence — that I know now.