Does warmth still linger in a dying flame?
Still burning in the hearth, though low it shrinks,
So little light and heat had to its name,
That it might hardly be a fire at all, methinks,
But for the last few embers, glowing bright
Like stars amid a firmament of ash,
Or warriors who bravely stand and fight
Although they know well of steel's deadly clash.
For as I watch them wink out, one by one,
I fear to be left trembling in the cold
And endless night ne'er vanquished by the sun,
To drown in darkness, growing dumb and old.
Yet now I see a spark to keep alive
The flames which we to stoke must ever strive.
