 | Joaquin Miller's Poems |  |
XXVI
I would I could forget, and yetI would not to my death forget.
I reared my temple to the sky,
That glad full moon, and laughed that I
Could toy with lightning, till I found,
Like some poor fool who toys with fire,
And counts him stronger than desire,
My temple burning to the ground.
| Joaquin Miller's Poems | |