CHARADE.
Reading edition
As by the fire the lovers sit, On rosy wings the moments flit; One little word confirms their bliss, And seals it with a loving kiss. That bliss they never could sustain Without my second's golden grain; Yet if it does attend their feet, Their daily walk is incomplete. My whole leaps forth from out the flame, Airy and light, but still the same; Showing a hard and common thing Made pure and white through suffering.