By the Fireside Lyrics – Arthur Somervell

Is all our fire of shipwreck wood
Oak and pine?
Oh, for the ills half-understood
The dim dead woe

Long ago
Befallen this bitter coast of France!
Well, poor sailors took their chance;
I take mine

A ruddy shaft our fire must shoot
O’er the sea
Do sailors eye the cas#ment-mute
Drenched and stark

From their bark—
And envy, gnash their teeth for hate
O’ the warm safe house and happy freight
—Thee and me?

God help you, sailors, at your need!
Spare the curse!
For some ships, safe in port indeed
Rot and rust

Run to dust
All through worms i’ the wood, that crept
That is worse
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Arthur Somervell Lyrics – By the Fireside

Arthur Somervell

By the Fireside