Baptism

By Claude McKay

Into the furnace let me go alone;

Stay you without in terror of the heat.

I will go naked in—for thus ''tis sweet—

Into the weird depths of the hottest zone.

I will not quiver in the frailest bone,

You will not note a flicker of defeat;

My heart shall tremble not its fate to meet,

My mouth give utterance to any moan.

The yawning oven spits forth fiery spears;

Red aspish tongues shout wordlessly my name.

Desire destroys, consumes my mortal fears,

Transforming me into a shape of flame.

I will come out, back to your world of tears,

A stronger soul within a finer frame.