Stopped

In the wood there burns a fire,

Deep and red, our ancient pyre,

By many men the wood was feared,

My just as many the fire revered.

When snow falls and lines the ground,

Our maiden jumps at every sound.

When virgin snow is touched by all,

Though it never shows, she feels so small,

The lion that once kept this flame,

Put out the fire and the wood to shame,

A single spark did reignite,

It stirred the embers and ensued a fight.

The lion fell and the maiden cried,

Her heart just stopped and then she died...