Chapter I

Gold-crowned with flames
Behind its bars
The coal:
And over the chimney
In a black hole
Spark-children playing
Their mazy games
And mimic-mighty wars:
Apple-logs green
Crossed cunningly:
Smoke-veils between
Drifting and lifting....

O fire, my glee,
Poor man’s friend,
Food, company,
Warmth and wine in one:
May I never need
Shillings to spend
On apple-logs
And coals to feed
Thee,
Bright-faced wonder of children and me!

[1] First version was published in _Ducks, and other Verses_, 1919.