Poem by Henry Newbolt

By the Hearth-Stone

By the hearth-stone
She sits alone,
  The long night bearing:
With eyes that gleam
Into the dream
  Of the firelight staring.

Low and more low
The dying glow
  Burns in the embers;
She nothing heeds
And nothing needs---
  Only remembers.

1. The Quarter-Gunner's Yarn
2. Waggon Hill
3. From Generation to Generation
4. Hawke
5. San Stefano

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