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Show Fireside Journeys. Mine Is nn humble, tnlljomo lot. My homo a lowly llttlo cot, And pleasant trips o'er land and sen Nor wheel nor sail e'er proffers mo. Day holds mo en rebound, but the night. Cheery with he.irthllre's gtowlnic light. Vouchsafe rnre Journeys with the elves That hide In covers on my shelves From oen pnKe these curious friends, Come out nt call, with power that sends Mu ln their wake, nt lightning pace, Through storied realms of time nnd spaco. From frozen Holds of Arctic snow To vales where tropic splendors glow, l'ast craggy heights, o'er wuters wide. Fearless wo soar, we glance, we glide. Famed kings nnd lovely queens we groot; Knights-errant In their tourneys meet; With' founders nnd explorers stray, Or talk with scholars by the way. Rages look on with solemn eyes. Dropping their queries and replies. While mystics breatho bewildering dreams, Till all the air with wonder teems. The sweet hours come, tho sweet hours go; Upon the hearth the flro burns low; Then dainty singers, tlrenmy-eyeil. From rhythmic covers softly glide. Crooning their low, delicious runes, And, lulled by cadenco of 'the tunes, I fall nsteep amid the elves .That bide In covers on my sholves. Jean Wllnun In National Magazine. |