There is satisfaction in working with fire
Taming the old elemental force
Restraining it so that it eats but slowly
And in its feasting makes a feast for its tamer
But metaphors are dangerous and following them perilous
It has to be said that if the fire eats, it must excrete
And while the coals are as what passes from the nether eye
The smoke is as the ale-sharing of the Danes outside Heorot
In that battle of which the best of bard-craft sings
It is not, perhaps, the most comforting thought
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