And, it stopped burning

The page torn away from the painting-book,

Was in my hand and I was burning it;

As the paper was in flames and I, in tears

Something happened and, the page stopped burning.

Torn and half-burnt, it has survived,

To tell a tale of love and woe;

The page asks me if love is all woe,

How did it survive the scorching flames!

No answer have I to the question asked;

And in my silence the page found victory;

Sheer joy it is to be in love,

And it is love in us that survives all.