The Phoenix

I found this gem by C.S. Lewis and I thought it was appropriate given the name of this blog. Enjoy.

The Phoenix flew into my garden and stood perched upon
A sycamore; the feathered flame with dazzling eyes
Lit up the whole lawn like a bonfire on midsummer's eve.
I ran out, slipping on the grass, reeling beneath
The news I bore: 'The Sole Bird is not fabulous! Look! Look!'
The dark girl, passing in the road, heard me. Her eyes
Lit up (I saw her features flood-lit in those golden rays)
So that I called, or else the Bird called, and we went
Over the wet lawn - shadows for our train - towards the Wonder.
Then, looking around, I saw her eyes...could it be true?
Was I deceived?...oh, say I was deceived...I thought her eyes
Had all along been fixed on me, not on the Bird.

Thrice-honoured Lady, make not of your spoon your meat, for silver
(How much less, tin or wood?) contains no nourishment.
I will be all things, any thing, to you, save only that.
Break not our hearts by telling me you never saw
The Phoenix, that my trumpery silhouette, thrusting between,
Made an eclipse. For I had dreamed that I had caught
For His own beak a silver, shining fish such as He loves.
And, having little of my own to offer Him,
Was building much on this miraculous draught. If the line breaks,
Oh with what empty hands you send me back to Him!