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Henry David Thoreau - Light-Winged Smoke
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LIGHT-WINGED Smoke, Icarian bird,
            Melting thy pinions in thy upward flight,
            Lark without song, and the messenger of dawn,
            Circling above the hamlets as thy nest;
            Or else, departing dream, and shadowy form
            Of midnight vision, gathering up thy skirts;
            By night star-veiling, and by day
            Darkening the light and blotting out the sun;
            Go thou my incense upward from this hearth,
            And ask the gods to pardon this clear flame.
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