Retreat

How does one light the fire? A flame
Goes out in the cold,
Because the wind breathes it,
And the wind has a searing tongue
Of ice;

The flame was not meant for that wind,
Just as a flower ought not to be buried
In certain grounds:

Climates of the cold
Soil under the skies
Always swollen with rain,
Where the sun winks
Like a sleepy eye,
Are just not meant
To hold flowers:

Here fire wilts, even if
There are brilliant stars in the night.