Этель Линн Бирс (Ethel Lynn Beers)

Fire-Proof

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

All the tender dreams
   Over hands entwined;
All the parting words
   Of the souls now shrined;
All the faces turned
   To the firelight red—
Faces furrowed now
   By the Reaper's tread;
All the cradle songs
   To the babies sung;
All the girlish mirth
   On its embers flung,
As a gay good-night
   Promised glad good-morrow,
And the happy sleep
   Had no waking sorrow.

Ah! the falling wall
   And the flame's hot breath
Has for these no doom—
   Has for these no death.

There's a fire-proof safe
   None 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.