THE FIRESIDE.
"Say, what have you brought to our own fireside?"
'Twas a mother's voice that spake:
"The wintry tempest doth loudly chide,
But peace and joy shall with us abide—
Oh, cherish them for my sake.
"A common stock is our happiness here:
Each heart must contribute its mite
The bliss to swell or the pain to cheer;
Husband, and son, and daughter dear,
What have you brought to-night?"
Then the studious boy, from his storied page,
Look'd up with a thoughtful eye:
That knowledge gleam'd thence which doth charm the sage,
And shine like a flame through the frost of age
With warmth and majesty.
A girl was there, like a rose on its stem,
And her sacred song she pour'd:
Beauty and music, a blended gem,
Shook from their sparkling diadem,
To enrich the evening hoard.
