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Without, the frost, the blinding snow,
The storm-wind's moody madness—
Within, the firelight's ruddy glow,
And childhood's nest of gladness.
The magic words shall hold thee fast:
Thou shalt not heed the raving blast.
The storm-wind's moody madness—
Within, the firelight's ruddy glow,
And childhood's nest of gladness.
The magic words shall hold thee fast:
Thou shalt not heed the raving blast.
And, though the shadow of a sigh
May tremble through the story.
For "happy summer days" gone by.
And vanish' d summer glory —
It shall not touch, with breath of bale.
The pleasance of our fairy-tale.
May tremble through the story.
For "happy summer days" gone by.
And vanish' d summer glory —
It shall not touch, with breath of bale.
The pleasance of our fairy-tale.
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