FROM the midst of the fire I fling
These arrows of fire to you:
If they sing, and burn, and sting,
You feel how I burn too;
But if they reach you there
Speed-spent, charred black and cold,
The fire burns out in the air,
The Passion will not be told.
From The Midst Of The Fire
James Thomson
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Poem topics: feel, passion, cold, speed, sting, reach, black, fire, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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