Faintly, along the shadowed shores of night
I saw a wilderness of stars that flamed
And fluttered as they climbed or sank, and shamed
The crouching dark with shyly twinkling light;
I saw them there, odd fragments quaintly bright,
And wondered at their presence there unclaimed,
Then thought, perhaps, that they were dreams unnamed,
That faded slow, like hope’s arrested flight.
Or vanished suddenly, like futile fears—
And some were old and worn like precious things
That youth preserves against encroaching years—
Some disappeared like songs that no man sings,
But one remained—an ember in the dark—
I crouched alone, and blew upon the spark.
—Louis L’Amour
