My little fire is cheerful,
Unchanging in its grace.
Whatever be the weather,
It keeps a shining face.
It always has a welcome
For such as seek its hearth,
Afar from all the struggles
And strivings of the earth.
It seems so understanding.
When ill has gone the day
And I recount my troubles,
It laughs them all away.
So I forget the fever
Of false and vain desire,
And find that life is blessed
Beside my little fire.
[Illustration of a man seated in front of hearth. He’s dressed in suit
and tie, smiling, and bent forward resting his elbows on his thighs.
The left hand holds long tongs pointed at the fire, and his chin rests
in his right hand. The hearth’s grate has two owl-shaped decorations,
and a log carrier with extra logs sits nearby. A plant is on the
mantle. The background has a window--drape open--decorated with a
wreath. A candelabrum with five lit candles is in front of the window,
and both ends are flanked by a candlestick with a lit candle. The
artist’s cursive signature makes the name uncertain.]