The candlelight sweeps softly through the room,
Filling dim surfaces with golden laughter,
Touching with mystery each high hung rafter,
Cutting a path of promise through the gloom.

Slim little elves dance gently on each taper,
Wistful, small ghosts steal out of shrouded
corners—
And, like a line of vague enchanted mourners,
Great shadows sway like wind-blown sheets of paper.

Gently as fingers drawn across your hair,
I see the yellow flicker of it creep—
And in a silence that is kin to sleep,
I feel a world away from pain and care.

Roads stretch like arms across the world outside,
Roads reach to strife, to happiness, to fame—
Here, in the candlelight, I speak your name,
Here we are at life's cross way, side by side!

OH, THERE ARE BROOKS THERE, AND FIELDS THERE AND NOOKS
THERE—
NOOKS WHERE A SEEKER MAY FIND FOREST FLOWERS;
BLUE IS THE SKY THERE, AND SOFT WINDS CREEP BY THERE,
SINGING A SONG THROUGH THE LONG SUMMER HOURS.