Possivelmente Dear Devil (1950) de Eric Frank Russell, também a resposta para Antologia para crianças; contém história sobre Marciano amigável na Terra pós-apocalíptica. A história está disponível no Internet Archive. (o link foi retirado da resposta, entre aspas OCRed no link Archive)
Um dos alienígenas, que eles chamam de 'poeta', decide que desejam ficar para trás e o capitão dos alienígenas os deixa ir com relutância.
Esse poeta seria Fander.
"Same with this." Fander exhibited his rough sketch. "This holds beauty. Where there is beauty there once was talent—may still be talent for all we know. Where talent abides is also greatness. In the realms of greatness we may find powerful friends. We need such friends."
"You win." Skhiva made a gesture of defeat. "We leave you to your self-chosen fate in the morning."
"Thank you, Captain."
O poeta então cria um lar e acaba encontrando uma criança humana que eles olham e cuidam da saúde.
Na verdade, um grupo de crianças que ele faz de enfermagem.
On the seventieth day, in a deep, shadowed glade to the north, he spotted a small group of new shapes slinking along in single file. He recognized them at a glance, knew them so well that his searching eyes sent an immediate thrill of triumph into his mind. They were ragged, dirty and no more than half grown, but the thing of beauty had told him what they were. [...]
This one was dark-haired, a bit bigger, and sturdier. It fought madly at his holding limbs while he gained altitude. Then suddenly, realizing the queer nature of its bonds, it writhed around and looked straight at him. The result was unexpected: it closed its eyes and went completely limp. [...]
It was still limp when be bore it into the cave, but its heart continued to beat and its lungs to draw. Laying it carefully on the softness of his bed, he moved to the cave's entrance and waited for it to recover. Eventually it stirred, sat up, gazed confusedly at the facing wall. Its black eyes moved slowly around, taking in the surroundings. Then they saw Fander. They widened tremendously and their owner began to make high-pitched, unpleasant noises as it tried to back away through the solid wall. It screamed so much, in one rising throb after another, that Fander slithered out of the cave, right out of sight, and sat in the cold winds until the noises had died down.
Eles finalmente encontram um humano mais velho que os ameaça com uma arma antes de concordar em ajudá-los.
Conheça o adorável "ancião" Graypate:
The sled climbed, glided a mile at five hundred feet. Fander's atten-tion was divided between his limp prizes, the controls and the horizon when suddenly a thunderous rattling sounded on the metal base of the sled, the entire framework shuddered, a strip of metal flew from its leading edge and things made whining sounds toward the clouds.
"Old Graypate," bawled Speedy, jigging around but keeping away from the rim. "He's shooting at us."
A história termina com os marcianos originais voltando e encontrando o assentamento, agora maior, e falando sobre o poeta.
Fander está "morto" há um tempo, mas não é esquecido:
Weep, my country, for your sons asleep, Tire ashes of your homes, your tottering towers. Weep, my country, 0, my comely, weep! For birds that cannot sing, for van-ished flowers, The end of everything, The silenced hours. Weep! my country.
There was no signature. Rdina mulled it through many minutes while the others remained passive. Then he turned to Speedy, pointed to the Martian script.
"Who wrote this?"
"One of your people. He is dead." "Ah!" said Rdina. "That songbird of Skhiva's. I have forgotten his name. I doubt whether many remembered it. He was only a very small poet. How did he die?"
Na verdade, o processo em que ele entrou é como um sono que ele poderia acordar pelos marcianos.
Encontrado pesquisando neste site por poeta [identificação da história] marte que retornou a pergunta vinculada.