I’m Afire (Victorian Version)

Earl Fowler
Nov 12
1 min read

Little lass, is thy consort fled? Left thee lone in the lamplit stead? A blister burns in my breast’s attire — Heart’s hearth hurteth hot: I’m afire.

Tell, tender one, is he kind to thee? Can his craft quick thee as mine could be? My breath could bear thee heaven’s higher spire — Sings scorch and sigh: afire, afire.

Ah! Some dull blade, edge-drab, unkeen, Hath cleaved my soul — six inches clean! Through marrowed me the mortal lyre Sings scorch and sigh: afire, afire.

At night I start from sweat-slicked dream, Freight-thrum floods through my fevered seam; Only thou, cool mercy’s choir, Can quench, can quiet my heart’s desire — Heart’s hearth hurteth hot: I’m afire.

2 Comments

Larry Johnsrude

Nov 13

Excellent.

Now can you make a Victorian version of these lyrics:

The screen door slams, Mary's dress sways

Like a vision she dances across the porch

as the radio plays

Roy Orbison singing for the lonely

That's me and I want you only

Don't turn me out again I just can face myself alone.

There were ghosts in the eyes of all the boys you sent away

They haunt this dusty beach road in skeleton frames

of burned-out Chevrolets

They scream your name at night in the street

your graduation gown lies in rags at your feet

Earl Fowler

Nov 14

Replying to

The screen door sighs; the twilight fades, And Mary’s gown is stirred with grace; A vision glides across the place, She dances where the music fades.

Within, a voice of sorrow plays— Sweet Roy for all the lonely cries; I hear his song, my spirit sighs— For thee alone my heart obeys.

Turn not away, nor let me stand Once more before my soul’s own door; I dare not meet myself no more, Nor face the silence of the land.

The ghosts of boys whom thou didst send Still wander by the whispering sea; Their hollow eyes remember thee, Their voices on the night-winds blend.

Through ruins of their cars they go, The shells of youth, the frames of flame; They shriek upon the wind thy name, Through haunted roads where dead dreams blow.

Thy…