“When the world is burning,Fired within, yet turning  Round with face unscathed;Ere fierce flames, uprushing,O’er all lands leap, crushing,  Till earth fall, fire-swathed;Up amidst the meadows,Gently through the shadows,  Gentle flames will glide,Small, and blue, and golden.Though by bard beholden,When in calm dreams folden,—  Calm his dreams will bide.”