[yorkie]

I sit beside the fire and think
Of all that I have seen.
Of meadow-flowers and butterflies
In summers that have been.

Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair.

I sit beside the fire and think
Of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring
That I shall ever see.

For still there are so many things
That I have never seen
In every wood in every spring
There is a different green.

I sit beside the fire and think
Of people long ago,
And people who will see a world
That I shall never know.

But all the while I sit and think
Of times there were before
I listen for returning feet
And voices at the door.

J.R.R. Tolkien

[gardengirl]

I love that one! Tolkien was such a great writer, in so many ways.

[Lady Jag]

Sitting By The Campfire

Sitting by the campfire I drink stream water from a Tin cup. A moonbeam falls into it. I sip it. The water has turned into Wine. I sip again. The wine is gone! The moon has disappeared Behind a cloud. Alas! What cruel games the gods Play on us. Thomas Danaher

[fewz]

That's weird. I went and got a truck load of wood this morning because the temperature is supposed to be brutal for the remainder of the week. I was just thinking a few minutes ago that I should take a picture of the fire and post it. You not only have the picture but a poem as well.

Cue the theme from TZ.

[JustAmy]

Oh I like this, Yorkie.

I have never read anything by J.R.R. Tolkien. Thank you for sharing this and the nice “Warm” Graphic.

[Majie Purple]

Neat fire & hearth pic... and poem, pair.