there are creeping flames in the near-by grass;

there are leaping flames afar;

and the wind’s black breath

is hot with death,—

the worst of the deaths that are!

and north is fire and south is fire,

and east and west the same;

the sunlight chokes,

the whole earth smokes,

the only light is flame!

but what do i care for the girdle of death

with its wavering wall and spire!

i draw the ring

where i am king,

and fight the fire with fire!

my blaze is not as wide as the world,

nor tall for the world to see;

but the flames i make

for life’s sweet sake,

are between the fire and me.

that fire would burn in wantonness

all things that life must use;

some things i lay

in the dragon’s way

and burn because i choose.

the sky is black, the air is red,

the earth is a flaming sea;

18but i’m shielded well

in the seething hell,

by the fire that comes from me.

there is nothing on earth a man need fear,

nothing so dark or dire;

though the world is wide,

you have more inside,

you can fight the fire with fire!