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The Fires

 Men make them fires on the hearth
 Each under his roof-tree,
And the Four Winds that rule the earth
 They blow the smoke to me.

Across the high hills and the sea
 And all the changeful skies,
The Four Winds blow the smoke to me
 Till the tears are in my eyes.

Until the tears are in my eyes.
 And my heart is wellnigh broke
For thinking on old memories
 That gather in the smoke.

With every shift of every wind
 The homesick memories come,
From every quarter of mankind
 Where I have made me a home.

Four times a fire against the cold
 And a roof against the rain --
Sorrow fourfold and joy fourfold
 The Four Winds bring again!

How can I answer which is best
 Of all the fires that burn?
I have been too often host or guest
 At every fire in turn.

How can I turn from any fire,
 On any man's hearthstone?
I know the wonder and desire
 That went to build my own!

How can I doubt man's joy or woe
 Where'er his house-fires shine.
Since all that man must undergo
 Will visit me at mine?

Oh, you Four Winds that blow so strong
 And know that his is true,
Stoop for a little and carry my song
 To all the men I knew!

Where there are fires against the cold,
 Or roofs against the rain --
With love fourfold and joy fourfold,
 Take them my songs again!






Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry