Song of the Phoenix

By

RACHEL FELICITY BENÉT
HERE in my ilex tree I dine
On roasted nutmegs, sharp and fair,
On moly, rice, and fairy wine
Sweet as the rosy evening air.
Here on Mount Aeolus I sleep
And, sleeping, hear the cricket’s song
And dappled frogs cry “Creep, creep, creep”
And white cranes call the whole night long.
Here do I live, apart from hate
And grief and greed and vain desire.
Be good and wise, and perpetrate
My renaissance in golden fire.