Eleanor Farjeon

New Light

What light was in me once unguarded was
  And any wind could blow it any way,
A flame in tatters, with all moods for laws,
  Wildest at midnight, pallidest by day.

A fire too tossed for comfort to the cold,
  A gleam too blurred for guidance to the dark,
Shifting caprice of red and blue and gold
  Flickering wanly from the troubled spark;

And other times a curl of azure smoke,
  Like the last puff of incense that is seen
To vanish from the brazier, rose to cloak
  The light until I feared it never had been.

But now the crystal-clear white globe of peace
  Has closed my spirit in, that it may burn
Steadily to the stars, and henceforth cease
  The wandering way of any wind to turn.