When I am weighted down with fameAnd wealthy past desire,I shall spend every copper onPine-sticks for a fire.
Flames shall be my jongleurs,Flames my minstrel wights,And flames beneath a sky of sparksShall dance for me o' nights.
Slim flames in sapphire,Waspish flames in green ...But a still flame in scarlet,She shall be my Queen.
I shall be their mad master ...Shriller, fiercer than wordsOut of my golden aviaryShall cry my burning birds.
