The Phoenix Clan of Buya
The Phoenix
Every 500 years, as death approached,
it would construct a nest of sweet smelling wood that it then set upon fire,
the flames consuming the bird.
And from the a new Phoenix arose
Phoenix Council Protrait 2004
~*The Phoenix~*
by Arthur Christopher Benson
By the feathers green, across Casbeen
The pilgrims track the Phoenix flown,
By gems he strew'd in waste and wood,
And jewll'd plumes at random thrown:
Till wandering far, by moon and star,
They stand beside the fruitful prye,
Where breaking bright with sanguine light
THe impulsive brid forgets his sire.
Those ashes shine like ruby wine,
LIke bag of Tyrian murex split,
The claw, the jowl of the flying fowl
Are with the glorious anguish gilt.
So rare the light, so rich the sight
Thos pilgrim men, on profit bent,
Drops hands and eyes and merchadise,
And are with gazing most content.
