Classic Poem

The children sit by the fireside
With their little faces in bloom;
And behind, the lily-pale mother,
Looking out of the gloom,

Flushes in cheek and forehead
With a light and sudden start;
But the father sits there silent,
From the firelight apart.

— Now, what dost thou see in the embers?
Tell it to me, my child, —
Whispers the lily-pale mother
To her daughter sweet and mild.

— O, I see a sky and a moon
In the coals and ashes there,
And under, two are walking
In a garden of flowers so fair.

— A lady gay, and her lover,
Talking with low-voiced words,
Not to waken the dreaming flowers
And the sleepy little birds. —

Back in the gloom the mother
Shrinks with a sudden sigh.
— Now, what dost thou see in the embers? —
Cries the father to the boy.

— O, I see a wedding-procession
Go in at the church's door, —
Ladies in silk and knights in steel, —
A hundred of them, and more.

— The bride's face is as white as a lily,
And the groom's head is white as snow;
And without, with plumes and tapers,
A funeral paces slow. —

Loudly then laughed the father,
And shouted again for cheer,
And called to the drowsy housemaid
To fetch him a pipe and beer.