  G ood-bye, old fire! We won't forget Your pleasant warmth and glow, When evening shades were dark as jet, And outside lay the snow. But now, you see, we're right in May, It's spring, without a doubt, And so, good fire, I grieve to say It's time that you were out. The little leaves are springing green, The skies above are blue; The primrose everywhere is seen, The almond's blooming too. Of course, you don't expect to stay When flowers are round about, And so, good fire, again I say It's time that you were out. But when, once more, November chill Its cloak of mist has spread, And o'er the lonely winter hill The sun goes soon to bed, We'll call you back with joyous shout, And, as the shades descend, We'll draw the blinds to shut them out And greet you as a friend. John Lea. |
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