Driftwood

My forefathers gave me
   My spirit’s shaken flame,
  The shape of hands, the beat of heart,
   The letters of my name.

But it was my lovers,
   And not my sleeping sires,
  Who gave the flame its changeful
   And iridescent fires;

As the driftwood burning
   Learned its jewelled blaze
  From the sea’s blue splendor
   Of colored nights and days.