By the Fire-Place
By Arthur Franklin Fuller
- When the days are getting shorter,
When the nights are long and chill,
With my cares and work forgotten,
And the whole world hushed and still-
Then I love to make a fire.
Watch the flamelets dance and race.
For things are mighty cozy,
By the fire-place.
I love to have a friend or two
To make the deal complete —
Shoes off, cocked on an extry chair.
We toast our weary feet;
A bowl of pop-corn sittin’ near,
While time slips by apace,
Why folks, it’s awful cozy,
By the fire-place.
Pretty soon some nice quotation,
Comes a-singin’ through his head-
A clean and sweet quotation,
Whose charm is quickly spread;
I’ll bound I’ll give an answer,
A match for his in grace —
Dad Time’s a grand romancer.
By the fire-place.
Then my friend may tell a story,
Course I’ll try to do as well —
We’ll both be in our glory,
Just a-weavin’ fiction’s spell;
I’ll read some book of poems —
Prose animates his face —
A man gets stout but younger,
By the fire-place.
We may tell the joys and sorrows
That have figured in the past,
Speculate on our Tomorrows —
But tears may start at last —
In those glowing, ruddy embers,
Fancy paints an absent face —
There’s a comfort one remembers,
By the fire-place.
Bye ‘n’ bye it comes to bed-time.
And I wind the clock and say,
“Nine more hours an’ we’ll be facin’
Another little day;
But b’gosh, ’twill soon be over.
Back again our steps we’ll trace —
Spend another pleasant evenin’ —
By the fire-place.”
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Copyright © by the author.
