Love Is A Refiner's Fire.

Non più ch' 'l foco il fabbro.


It is with fire that blacksmiths iron subdue
        Unto fair form, the image of their thought:
        Nor without fire hath any artist wrought
        Gold to its utmost purity of hue.
Nay, nor the unmatched phoenix lives anew,
        Unless she burn: if then I am distraught
        By fire, I may to better life be brought
        Like those whom death restores nor years undo.
The fire whereof I speak, is my great cheer;
        Such power it hath to renovate and raise
        Me who was almost numbered with the dead;
And since by nature fire doth find its sphere
        Soaring aloft, and I am all ablaze,
        Heavenward with it my flight must needs be sped.