The fat cat on the mat
may seem to dream
of nice mice that suffice
for him, or cream;
but he free, maybe,
walks in thought
unbowed, proud, where loud
roared and fought
his kin, lean and slim, 
or deep in den
in the East feasted on beasts
and tender men.

The giant lion with iron
claw in paw,
and huge ruthless tooth
in gory jaw;
the pard dark-starred,
fleet upon feet,
that oft soft from aloft
leaps on his meat
where woods loom in gloom - 
far now they be,
fierce and free,
and tamed is he;
but fat cat on the mat
kept as a pet,
he does not forget.

-JRR Tolkien Copyright 1966
(from "The Tolkien Reader")

A crimson bloom in winter's snow
Born out of time, like a maiden's woe,
Spawned in a season when the chill winds blow.

'Twas found in a sheltered spot,
Bright sterling gules and blemished not,
Red as a drop o' blood from the broken heart.

Of the maiden who waits and weeps atop the tor,
Left behind by yon ardent knight sworn to war,
'Til ajousting and aquesting he goes no more.

Fear not, Sweet Jo, amoulderin' on the moor.
The winter's rose doth promise in the fading runes of yore,
That true love once found will again be restored.

-Kathleen E. Woodiwiss from "A Rose In Winter" Copyright 1982

For the flame will surely come,
And burn, and blacken, and lay bare the hill.
But with the first sweet breath of spring
The shy and lovely flower will again show
it's face among the charred ruins.
It yields to the searing heat,
But with its persistent beauty
Far surpasses and finally tames the flame.

-Kathleen E. Woodiwiss "The Flame and the Flower" Copyright 1972