Fire-Proof

THERE'S a house burned down!Only, gaunt and black,Stands the smoky shaftOf the chimney-stack;And the fireplace small,Where we sat together,Cannot hide us nowFrom the wind and weather.But the twilight talkAnd the childish chatBy yon blistered hearth,—What can burn up that?

All the tender dreamsOver hands entwined;

All the parting wordsOf the souls now shrined;All the faces turnedTo the firelight red—Faces furrowed nowBy the Reaper's tread;All the cradle songsTo the babies sung;All the girlish mirthOn its embers flung,As a gay good-nightPromised glad good-morrow,And the happy sleepHad no waking sorrow.

Ah! the falling wallAnd the flame's hot breathHas for these no doom—Has for these no death.

There's a fire-proof safeNone can mar or make,Where we keep them close,For their own dear sake.

So the house may burn,And the chimney fall;In our hearts they lie,Safe and guarded all.