Blaze

The sun, no longer at its noontime height,
Still beats incessantly upon the road
And turns my eyes against their very sight
By pushing them into an overload.
I turn aside, only to see reflected
In every surface too much sun to see;
By which my eyes feel almost self-directed
To close themselves, for their security.
Yet even as I close them, purple flame
Mixed with a yellow fire, closes 'round
And everywhere is lit up just the same
As if my eyes had never gone to ground.
I cannot flee the sun, until at last,
The day falls down, and nighttime's spell is cast.