Classic Poem

While through our air thy kindling course was run
A momentary glory filled the night;
The envious stars shone fainter, for thy light
Garnered the wealth of all their fires in one.
Ah, short-lived splendor! journey ill-begun!
Half-buried in the Earth that broke thy flight,
No longer in thy broidered raiment dight,
Here liest thou dishonored, cold, undone.
" Nay, critic mine, far better 't is to die
" The death that flashes gladness, than alone,
" In frigid dignity, to live on high;
" Better in burning sacrifice be thrown
" Against the world to perish, than the sky
" To circle endlessly a barren stone. "