That cold winter evening
The fire would not draw,
And the whole family hung
Over the dismal grate
Where rain-soaked logs
Bubbled, hissed and steamed.
Then, when the others had gone
Up to their chilly beds,
And I was ready to go,
The wood began to flame
In clear rose and violet,
Heating the small hearth.
Why should that memory cling
Now the children are all grown up,
And the house - a different house -
Is warm at any season?
Very nice poem (much better than the 5.5 rating given by the 11 voters so far) , telling a good story, but I don't see why he gave it that title.
I don't understand why people rate famous poets to low in general. As for the title, perhaps he is saying the fire, which eventually catches, was wasted because the children were gone to sleep. Now, in the present, the children are grown and gone, the house is always warm but because they are gone that fire is also wasted in some respect?
Perhaps the trauma of feeling cold in childhood left him with this recurrent memory. His body craved warmth so much that he remembers the cheerful beauty of those rising flames. However, he cannot share such a memory with his children. They would not understand because they have grown up in a comfortably warm house. Even he realizes that this recurrent memory does not apply to his current situation, so in a sense such a memory is wasted
A pleasing stroll down the memory lane. Thanks for sharing.10 points.
It is a good thing that a poem makes the reader wonder over its words and discuss them with their friends. This one resonates with me and that is why it is written- -to resonate with its readers for personal reasons as well as its author's. For me, the house they grew up in changed when it no longer rang with their child voices- whether it was an altogether different home or the same home that they grew up in doesn't change that hollow feeling. {I think he moved to Florida or Hawaii where it is warm all the time. :) ]
The memory clings to remind you of the treasures in your life. Thank you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Up to their chilly beds! ! With the muse of nature. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.