by Emily Pauline Johnson (1861 - 1913)

Fire‑Flowers
Language: English 
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 sears 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.

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Researcher for this page: Joost van der Linden [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website: 2026-05-01
Line count: 10
Word count: 69