Burn, O evening hearth, and waken
       &nbsp Pleasant visions, as of old!
Though the house by winds be shaken,
       &nbsp Safe I keep this room of gold!

Ah, no longer wizard Fancy
       &nbsp Builds her castles in the air,
Luring me by necromancy
       &nbsp Up the never-ending stair!

But, instead, she builds me bridges
       &nbsp Over many a dark ravine,
Where beneath the gusty ridges
       &nbsp Cataracts dash and roar unseen.

And I cross them, little heeding
       &nbsp Blast of wind or torrent's roar,
As I follow the receding
       &nbsp Footsteps that have gone before.

Naught avails the imploring gesture,
       &nbsp Naught avails the cry of pain!
When I touch the flying vesture,
       &nbsp 'T is the gray robe of the rain.

Baffled I return, and, leaning
       &nbsp O'er the parapets of cloud,
Watch the mist that intervening
       &nbsp Wraps the valley in its shroud.
And the sounds of life ascending
       &nbsp Faintly, vaguely, meet the ear,
Murmur of bells and voices blending
       &nbsp With the rush of waters near.

Well I know what there lies hidden,
       &nbsp Every tower and town and farm,
And again the land forbidden
       &nbsp Reassumes its vanished charm.

Well I know the secret places,
       &nbsp And the nests in hedge and tree;
At what doors are friendly faces,
       &nbsp In what hearts are thoughts of me.

Through the mist and darkness sinking,
       &nbsp Blown by wind and beaten by shower,
Down I fling the thought I'm thinking,
       &nbsp Down I toss this Alpine flower.