The Fires

1 
Men make them fires on the hearth
  Each under his roof-tree, 
And the Four Winds that rule the earth
  They blow the smoke to me.
2 
Across the high hills and the sea
   And all the changeful skies,
The Four Winds blow the smoke to me
  Till the tears are in my eyes.
3 
Until the tears are in my eyes
  And my heart is wellnigh broke
For thinking on old memories
  That gather in the smoke.
4 
With every shift of every wind
  The homesick memories come,
From every quarter of mankind
  Where I have made me a home.
5 
Four times afire against the cold
   And a roof against the rain—
Sorrow fourfold and joy fourfold
   The Four Winds bring again!
6 
How can I answer which is best
  Of all the fires that burn?
I have been too often host or guest
   At every fire in turn.
7 
How can I turn from any fire,
  On any man’s hearthstone?
I know the wonder and desire
  That went to build my own!
8 
How can I doubt man’s joy or woe
   Where’er his house-fires shine,
Since all that man must undergo
  Will visit me at mine?
9 
Oh, you Four Winds that blow so strong
   And know that this is true,
Stoop for a little and carry my song
  To all the men I knew!
10 
Where there are fires against the cold,
   Or roofs against the rain
With love fourfold and joy fourfold,
  Take them my songs again!

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