Fire-Flowers by Emily Pauline Johnson

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.

By Emily Pauline Johnson