An ode.it reads:
It was there upon the village greena postscript is here written:
The warm light of flame when seen
Against the stars in window-frame
Dwelling only where fled fame
I think, blinking at perhaps a tear
For so far it was for a place so near
And men would cut his ragged coat
And reuse him like a Wilde quote
Hang him up like a trophy of sport
And men would pay - and men would gloat -
But lowly always did he deport
Himself - throne over throne were lifted
O'er the wonders he once gifted
And 'neath thatched roofs to float
And who there saw his varigate coat?
And who thought he dwelt so near?
In each sigh, in each tear
A villein, of no particular fame
Found now, in ironic picture-frame
In hearthless houses often seen
Where no more is village green?
In 'Howl's Moving Castle' does not the fire-demon somehow become the spirit of the hearth?