"Was it not better so to lie? The fight was done. Even gods tire Of fighting... My way was the wrong. Now I should drift and drift along To endless quiet, golden peace... And let the tortured body cease.And then a light winked like an eye. . . . And very many miles away A girl stood at a warm, lit door, Holding a lamp. Ray upon ray It cloaked the snow with perfect light. And where she was there was no night Nor could be, ever. God is sure, And in his hands are things secure."