We look, and think, and can with ease
See in the fire just what we please.
How sweet to sit the hearth-fire by,
Till living coals to embers die;
White ashes, creeping o’er their crest,
Come as if covering them for rest;
How dream-like fades their glowing light,
Like eyes that sink to sleep at night.
Sit we beside a certain friend,
In love the evening hour to spend;