The Wind over the Chimney

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow * Track #143 On The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Wind over the Chimney by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Wind over the Chimney Annotated

See, the fire is sinking low,
Dusky red the embers glow,
&nbsp While above them still I cower,
While a moment more I linger,
Though the clock, with lifted finger,
&nbsp Points beyond the midnight hour.

Sings the blackened log a tune
Learned in some forgotten June
&nbsp From a school-boy at his play,
When they both were young together,
Heart of youth and summer weather
&nbsp Making all their holiday.

And the night-wind rising, hark!
How above there in the dark,
&nbsp In the midnight and the snow,
Ever wilder, fiercer, grander,
Like the trumpets of Iskander,
&nbsp All the noisy chimneys blow!

Every quivering tongue of flame
Seems to murmur some great name,
&nbsp Seems to say to me, "Aspire!"
But the night-wind answers, "Hollow
Are the visions that you follow,
&nbsp Into darkness sinks your fire!"

Then the flicker of the blaze
Gleams on volumes of old days,
&nbsp Written by masters of the art,
Loud through whose majestic pages
Rolls the melody of ages,
&nbsp Throb the harp-strings of the heart.

And again the tongues of flame
Start exulting and exclaim:
&nbsp "These are prophets, bards, and seers;
In the horoscope of nations,
Like ascendant constellations,
&nbsp They control the coming years."

But the night-wind cries: "Despair!
Those who walk with feet of air
&nbsp Leave no long-enduring marks;
At God's forges incandescent
Mighty hammers beat incessant,
&nbsp These are but the flying sparks.

"Dust are all the hands that wrought;
Books are sepulchres of thought;
&nbsp The dead laurels of the dead
Rustle for a moment only,
Like the withered leaves in lonely
&nbsp Churchyards at some passing tread."

Suddenly the flame sinks down;
Sink the rumors of renown;
&nbsp And alone the night-wind drear
Clamors louder, wilder, vaguer,—
"'T is the brand of Meleager
&nbsp Dying on the hearth-stone here!"

And I answer,—"Though it be,
Why should that discomfort me?
&nbsp No endeavor is in vain;
Its reward is in the doing,
And the rapture of pursuing
&nbsp Is the prize the vanquished gain."

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