At Lexington they are going to burn
  A hoard of books for charity.
  Round these towering volumes the flames will churn
  As night and winter's dark they spurn
  And threaten with their clarity.

  The fire's fierce theatre draws herds of folk
  All willing to be hynotised;
  Anemones of flame and reefs of smoke
  Enchant us so, we'd gladly choke
  To see the dark so well disguised.

  'Oh, look, the Bible's all on fire', we cheered
  At its catching. 'Oh watch it flare'.
  It was like this of old, when witches reared
  Against the stake; we stood and peered
  At such Aladdin caves of air.

  These mushrooming billows of coral form
  The fevered brain of fire on high,
  Whose dream of destroying the world by storm
  Will, in the ashes, still be warm
  Long after its illusions die.

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©   by Robert Calvert