Another Extra Credit Poem

I met a stranger in the night,
Whose lamp had ceased to shine;
I paused and let him light
His lamp from mine.

A tempest sprang up later on,
And shook the world about,
And when the wind was gone,
My lamp was out.

But back to me the stranger came —
His lamp was glowing fine;
He held  the precious flame
And lighted mine.

- Lon Woodrum