THE mountains lost in clouds, the giant firs

Standing out 'gainst the never-ceasing lightning,

Shaken by thunderpeals, in threefold strength,

As all the valleys echoed through the night.

The mighty heads stormbent, the branches tossed

Into the sheets of water, sky and earth

In lurid light, a never-ceasing flame.

There in the grass, beneath a tiny leaf

A firefly put forth its wondrous ray,

As if no storm, no rain, no hail were nigh,

A peaceful little flame, and yet so strong,

That it outshone the lightning. It would say:

I am the same as lightning! Storm thy life

And threat'ning thunder, but thy flame O minstrel,

Thy heart's own fire, is as strong, as true,

As elementary as Fate's wild raving,

And though it throws its light but on a leaf,

That leaf may be eternal by the light

Thy soul hath shed on it. That steady flame

Burns on, when all the clouds have spent their fire,

And when the bowels of the earth have ceased

To growl in answer. Undisturbed, thy flame

Will live, defying Fate's alarm, a fearless,

Undying mighty word, as strong as lightning

And love's own sheen, thy soul's unwavering beacon.