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THE FIRESIDE.
��" SAY, what have you brought to our own fireside ?
'Twas a mother's voice that spake ; " The wintry teinpest doth loudly chide. But peace and joy shall with us abide ;
O 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 there which doth charm
the sage, And shine like a flame thro' 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.
�� �
