Poem by Emily Pauline Johnson

Fire-Flowers

    And only where the forest fires have sped,
        Scorching relentlessly the cool north lands,
    A sweet wild flower lifts its purple head,
    And, like some gentle spirit sorrow-fed,
        It hides the scars with almost human hands.

    And only to the heart that knows of grief,
        Of desolating fire, of human pain,
    There comes some purifying sweet belief,
    Some fellow-feeling beautiful, if brief.
        And life revives, and blossoms once again.

1. The King's Consort
2. Wave-Won
3. The City and the Sea
4. Your Mirror Frame
5. Where Leaps the Ste. Marie

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