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DEAR LITTLE FIRE
Dear little fire by the upland trail,
Well fed with twigs of oak, By you I'll dream and soft caress
Your tiny hands of smoke.
Dear little friend of the lonely hours,
I'll give you after-while, A dainty lunch of crumpled leaves
And grass to make you smile.
Oh, then you'll romp and chatter and play, And laugh with quaint delight,
And throw warm kisses at the sad And solemn-looking night.