And gazed into the flame with misted eyes,
I could steal nearer and whisper time away.
And sometimes he would breathe his thoughts aloud;
And when at night his faithful servant, Claire,
Stole into the room to lay his frugal meal,
She’d glance at him with big brown troubled eyes
To find him talking to himself alone.
And sometimes when the masters of the hour
Won easy victories in the light world’s fashion,
With fables, easily spun in light quick minds,