Classic and Contemporary Poetry
SITTING BY THE FIRE (1), by HENRY CLARENCE KENDALL Poet's Biography First Line: Barren age and withered world! Last Line: Trooping to and fro! Subject(s): Fire | ||||||||
Barren Age and withered World! Oh! the dying leaves, Like a drizzling rain, Falling round the roof -- Pattering on the pane! Frosty Age and cold, cold World! Ghosts of other days, Trooping past the faded fire, Flit before the gaze. Now the wind goes soughing wild O'er the whistling Earth; And we front a feeble flame, Sitting round the hearth! Sitting by the fire, Watching in its glow, Ghosts of other days Trooping to and fro. Oh, the nights -- the nights we've spent, Sitting by the fire, Cheerful in its glow; Twenty summers back -- Twenty years ago! If the days were days of toil Wherefore should we mourn; There were shadows near the shine, Flowers with the thorn? And we still can recollect Evenings spent in mirth -- Fragments of a broken life, Sitting round the hearth: Sitting by the fire, Cheerful in its glow, Twenty summers back -- Twenty years ago. Beauty stooped to bless us once, Sitting by the fire, Happy in its glow; Forty summers back -- Forty years ago. Words of love were interchanged, Maiden hearts we stole; And the light affection throws Slept on every soul. Oh, the hours went flying past -- Hours of priceless worth; But we took no note of Time, Sitting round the hearth: Sitting by the fire, Happy in its glow, Forty summers back -- Forty years ago. Gleesome children were we not? Sitting by the fire, Ruddy in its glow, Sixty summers back -- Sixty years ago. Laughing voices filled the room; Oh, the songs we sung, When the evenings hurried by -- When our hearts were young! Pleasant faces watched the flame -- Eyes illumed with mirth -- And we told some merry tales, Sitting round the hearth: Sitting by the fire, Ruddy in its glow, Sixty summers back -- Sixty years ago. Barren Age and withered World! Oh, the dying leaves, Like a drizzling rain, Falling round the roof -- Pattering on the pane! Frosty Age and cold, cold World! Ghosts of other days, Trooping past the faded fire, Flit before the gaze. Now the wind goes soughing wild O'er the whistling Earth; And we front a feeble flame, Sitting round the hearth: Sitting by the fire, Watching, in its glow, Ghosts of other days Trooping to and fro! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WRITTEN TO A YOUNG LADY by MAURICE BARING OUR DRIFTWOOD FIRE by KATHARINE LEE BATES THE NIGHT FIRE by CLAUDE MCKAY WATER, WINTER, FIRE by MARVIN BELL THE LITTLE FIRE IN THE WOODS by HAYDEN CARRUTH SAMSON PREDICTS FROM GAZA THE PHILADELPHIA FIRE by LUCILLE CLIFTON ALADDIN LAMP by MADELINE DEFREES A DEATH IN THE BUSH by HENRY CLARENCE KENDALL |
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