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.