from A Hallowe'en Memory
circa 1921
by Christopher Morley (1890-1957)
The night when Hallowe'en first came?
The newly dedicated fire,
The hearth unsanctified by flame?
How anxiously we swept the bricks
(How tragic were the draught not right!)
And then the blaze enwrapped the sticks
And filled the room with dancing light.
We could not speak, but only gaze,
Nor half believe what we had seen...
Our home, our hearth, our golden blaze,
Our cider mugs, our Hallowe'en!
And then a thought occurred to me...
We ran outside with sudden shout
And looked up to the roof, to see
Our own dear smoke come drifting out.
And of all man's felicities
The very subtlest one, say I,
Is when, for the first time, he sees
His hearthfire smoke against the sky.
Chimney Smoke - Christopher Morley
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