Til the last sword-like flicker
Keeps, as twere defended
As much as spellbound.
Camp fire's, not only. That starred
Above; dread nights confound.
Or that, bare wick-held, staves off
What have, for phantom thoughts
Efformed; to assail.
This Godsend. This Seraph, Light.
O'er death will prevail!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem