 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
THE HICKORY FIRE.
Among the things I most admire,
Is the cheerful light of a hickory fire.
Is the cheerful light of a hickory fire.
I like to sit and watch the blaze,
That over the back log curls and plays,
That over the back log curls and plays,
But more I like the cherry glow,
With orange and blue, in the coals below.
With orange and blue, in the coals below.
The embers open a book to me,
And wonderful pictures its pages be.
And wonderful pictures its pages be.
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They bring back images from the vast,
The shadowy, half-forgotten past.
The shadowy, half-forgotten past.
My early trouble and early pain,
And early joy come back again.
And early joy come back again.
There are the Schuylkill's sloping hills,
Its grand old trees, and singing rills.
Its grand old trees, and singing rills.
And there the nook wherein one day
We sat and dreamed the hours away.
We sat and dreamed the hours away.
But she has gone with her violet eyes;
Within the church-yard old she lies.
Within the church-yard old she lies.
But she has gone with her locks of gold,
And I am childless, grey and old.
And I am childless, grey and old.
It changes now to a glowing red—
My present life before me spread.
My present life before me spread.
Little in that to please I see—
The present is too well known to me.
The present is too well known to me.
Again a change—a burned stick falls;
Sparks arise, and a city's walls.
Sparks arise, and a city's walls.
This is the future now I spy,
With the boundless grasp of a dreamer's eye.
With the boundless grasp of a dreamer's eye.
There castle and palace, baton and crown,
Rise from the depths and tumble down.
Rise from the depths and tumble down.
Riches so vast they pass all count;
A height it makes one giddy to mount.
A height it makes one giddy to mount.
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And thus for riches, and thus for sway,
I come to my hickory fire alway.
I come to my hickory fire alway.
Lamp of the genius never I need,
Nor the wondrous ring of the great Djemsheed.
Nor the wondrous ring of the great Djemsheed.
For I cross the sticks at an angle—so,
For flame above, and for air below.
For flame above, and for air below.
I pile the dry logs high and higher,
I grasp the poker, and stir the fire;
I grasp the poker, and stir the fire;
And want how much whatever I may,
I start to dreamland right away.
I start to dreamland right away.
Is it a wonder that I admire
The cheerful light of a hickory fire?
The cheerful light of a hickory fire?
Or is it strange that I love to gaze,
Dreamily on its flickering blaze?
Dreamily on its flickering blaze?
The storm outside may whistle and roar,
The sleet may drive, the hail may pour.
The sleet may drive, the hail may pour.
What does it matter then to me,
So long as these pleasant things I see;
So long as these pleasant things I see;
And visions of past and future days
Rise in the fire to the old man's gaze?
Rise in the fire to the old man's gaze?
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |