Classic Poem

And I have seen a forest fire;
God, it was an awful thing!
It crept with scarlet tongues,
Fire!
Higher.
It lapped at the soft white rim
Of the dogwood blooms;
It flung orange and black
Scarves to hang in a mocking wrack,
That made green leaves shrivel and curl in despair;
Pointed ironic fingers here and there

In the cool caverns of moss,
Turning the gold of foliage to dross,
Till the forest, panting in shame,
Gave its virginal beauty to the flame
That left it a stark, black hag
Stripped
Of soul and beauty and love,
Whipped
By the Forest Fire!