The poem
Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack, And leave your friends and go.
Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread, Look not to left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night.
Now Hollow Fires Burn Out to Black
For whatever reasons, I have always found this poem to give me comfort or courage in times distress.