  IV.Kinsman and cousin of the FaËry Race, All winter long he sets his sober mirth,— That brings good-luck to many a fire-place,— To folk-lore song and story of the hearth. Between the back-log's bluster and the slim High twittering of the kettle,—sounds that hymn Home-comforts,—when, outside, the starless Earth Is icicled in every laden limb,— Defying frost and all the sad and sear,— Like love that dies not and is always near,— We hear his "Cheer, cheer, cheer." |
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