Classic Poem

HEARTH SONG

Before the hearth I dream of many things.
The red-eyed embers glow, dull down, expire;
An evanescent life in each, that brings
Sad omens for the Life that men desire.
Will it not end in ashes, like the fire?

Not death is here, but change! Each spark that gleams
Is pent-up sunlight, and the back-log's tune
Repeats the music of the woods and streams.
Bend low and listen; it is Nature's rune,
Singing of summer, chanting soft of June.