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a
fire!
afire,
his one
desire!
her name was hope
and her captors'
ire.
her golden hair
from air to he
so free she be
but soon transpires
a thievery!
with walls aflame
of loveless
fire
and daughter consumed
does father
inquire
of salt and sand—
his hands now
singed by molten
mire.
now his hands
hold nothing
as these visions
of strands a'gold
inspire.
and the all of she
so lovingly
does beg him to
retire.
he beg she see
that the all of he
still eyes
of his daughter,
eyer.
and the
fire
the
fire
grows ceaselessly
higher
and
higher—
he sighed as the
fire
grew nigh.