Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive, Half wishing they were dead to save the shame. The sudden blush devours them, neck and brow; They have drawn too near the fire of life, like gnats, And flare up bodily, wings and all.
Simul flare sorbereque haud facile Est: ego hic esse et illic simul, haud potui.
And in the evening, everywhere Along the roadside, up and down, I see the golden torches flare Like lighted street-lamps in the town.
The lonely sunsets flare forlorn Down valleys dreadly desolate; The lonely mountains soar in scorn As still as death, as stern as fate.robert service