The blazing fire of maple-wood lights up the spacious room,
And branches of the fragrant birch give out a sweet perfume.
And we are happy—’midst these hills our childhood has been past,
And beautiful they seem to us, with forests old and vast;
The summer and the autumn bring golden fruits and flowers,
But dearer than the summer days are pleasant winter hours.
The happy winter evenings, we love their social mirth,
For many pleasant tales are told beside our lighted hearth;
A welcome face sometimes looks in upon our circle here,
And brings to us the happiest hour in all the glad New Year.