All Quiet along the Potomac and other poems/Fire-Proof

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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.