By The Hearth-Stone Poem by Sir Henry Newbolt

By The Hearth-Stone

Rating: 2.8


By the hearth-stone
She sits alone,
The long night bearing:
With eyes that gleam
Into the dream
Of the firelight staring.

Low and more low
The dying glow
Burns in the embers;
She nothing heeds
And nothing needs---
Only remembers.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: staring
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