AH!the solace in the sitting,Sitting by the fire,When the wind without is calling And the fourfold clouds are falling,With the rain-racks intermitting,Over slope and spire.
Ah!the solace in the sitting,Sitting by the fire.
Then,and then,a man may ponder,Sitting by the fire,Over fair far days,and faces Shining in sweet-coloured places Ere the thunder broke asunder Life and dear Desire.
Thus,and thus,a man may ponder,Sitting by the fire.
Waifs of song pursue,perplex me,Sitting by the fire:
Just a note,and lo,the change then!
Like a child,I turn and range then,Till a shadow starts to vex me -Passion's wasted pyre.
So do songs pursue,perplex me,Sitting by the fire.
Night by night -the old,old story -
Sitting by the fire,Night by night,the dead leaves grieve me:
Ah!the touch when youth shall leave me,Like my fathers,shrunken,hoary,With the years that tire.
Night by night -that old,old story,Sitting by the fire.
Sing for slumber,sister Clara,Sitting by the fire.
I could hide my head and sleep now,Far from those who laugh and weep now,Like a trammelled,faint wayfarer,'Neath yon mountain-spire.
Sing for slumber,sister Clara,Sitting by the fire.
