Sara Teasdale — Driftwood

My forefathers gave me        &nbsp My spirit's shaken flame, The shape of hands, the beat of heart,        &nbsp The letters of my name. But it was my lovers,        &nbsp And not my sleeping sires, Who gave the flame its changeful        &nbsp And iridescent fires; As the driftwood burning        &nbsp Learned its jewelled blaze From the sea's blue splendor        &nbsp Of colored nights and days.