The woods

by Douglas Malloch

And, somehow, my soul remembers

The thrill of an old desire.

There is something in embers gleaming,

There is something in coals aglow,

That quickens the soul to dreaming

A dream of the long ago.

The things of the past awaken—

A message, a face, a name;

There is balm to the soul forsaken

In the light of a dying flame.