And only where the forest fires have sped, br Scorching relentlessly the cool north lands, br A sweet wild flower lifts its purple head, br And, like some gentle spirit sorrow-fed, br It hides the scars with almost human hands. br br And only to the heart that knows of grief, br Of desolating fire, of human pain, br There comes some purifying sweet belief, br Some fellow-feeling beautiful, if brief.