To Your Little House

I shall remember candlelight
And the low fire burning
When the only sound was a quiet word
Or a page turning.

I shall remember the song of the wind
And the bias drive of the rain
When cold days and dark days
Beat at the windowpane.

Morning opened a golden fan
In your elm tree
And evening spread her colors out
For your little house to see.

I must follow a dark road,
A road that has no turning-
But I shall remember candlelight
And the low fire burning.