The Fire-Fly Poem by Philip Henry Savage

The Fire-Fly



TO-DAY as writing in the park
I sat, came twilight and the dark.
There as I watched the color run
In waves above the sunken sun,
A lightning-bug, (for candle), took
His post just here upon my book.
His wing he raised, his golden urn
Of fire he let a moment burn.
Pray, for his sake, behold this line
With a not common brightness shine.

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