The Eighth Sin/Old Quaker Wood
OLD QUAKER WOOD.
(To C. W. S., the Goblin-Woodcutter.)
Old Quaker wood burns sweet and slowAnd sinks into a crimson glow. The log, grown tough with many days The fiery fingers long gainsaysAnd then—how grey the ash below!
Green were your leaves of long ago,Now brighter blossoms round you grow The golden foliage of the blaze Old Quaker wood!
And even in your final throeThe small blue flame is whispering low In confidential Quaker phrase "Thee must be brave!" The log obeysFor any (as we all well know) Old Quaker would!
Old Jordans Hostel.