Oh! blest it is by blazing hearth,
With many a well-loved friend beside,
And harp, and wine, and graceful mirth,
To mock December's stormy pride.
And blest it is, by studious light,
The gusty wind unheard the while,
To cheat the fast-receding night
With poet's song or sage's toil.
But I not less the hour may prize
'When glowing embers thro' the room,'
And fitful flame that flaps and dies,