When the Gods entered his dwelling they found only the burnt-out fire.
He was not white, as the dead are said to be: no, he was as black as a coal—a burnt-out coal.
True poetry, the best of it, is but the ashes of a burnt-out passion.
And that was all; that and the burnt-out blue of the sky and the steady shimmer of the heat.
The circling darknesses are opaque to us,—like ...