The Burning
A little hungry tongue of flame darts out
And curls along the rotted sagging sill;
The old foot-guttered timbers writhe about
As if some life pervaded Bodie still.
The glutton blaze devours saloon and hall;
It creeps along forgotten ridge and rafter
And licks the cobwebs from the mouldy wall
And roars and crackles high demented laughter.
Old Bodie burns! They say they do not know
What spark set it afire, but old men tell
Of greeds and hates it kindled years ago,
Of mine depths heated as from coals of hell.
Some smouldering revenge but six feet deep
Leaped free to burn old Bodie town, asleep.
