Such brilliance never caught by glass
knows only sky and stream and golden grass.
She is the earth; the earth is She:
Bones of needles, gaze of pins
Though delicate, Her gentle skin
An ember's hiding deep within.
They say She has a tongue of flame
A savage furnace that she'll never tame;
So, silently, she roams the ground-
Beating heart and pounding hooves:
The only languages She speak:
Shy and dumb; by no means meek.
But the fire steals Her spindly legs
"Burn as I do! Go seize the land!" it begs.
She quavers, though she must obey:
She is the flame; the flame is She:
It leads Her by a wicked rope-
Fire on the heels of the Antelope.