And weep as if I had not wept before,
And think of words about me I have heard,
And with old thoughts grieve over them some more.
But soon, if I get up, or sit and gaze,
Telling myself stories of joyous thought
Before the warm and cheery, singing blaze,
Now all my bad thoughts in a trap are caught;
And if I gaze at castles in the fire,
Then all the while to gladness I grow nigher.