In
cold we did shiver
On
moon lit night huddled near.
Bleak
the bow and quiver
By
shaking hand stuck not the target near.
Was
it not that ember?
Was
it not that campfire bright?
That
soothed the hand and tamed the arrow
To
make living a delight.
Was
it not that burning ember
That
helped us hold back the fear
And
let us walk into the unknown
Let
us see what we could hear.
To
him we hold our gratitude
To
him we hold most dear
For
he listened not to instruction
But
led by heart to sooth our tears.
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