The Light’ood Fire

John Henry Boner (1845–1903)

WHEN wintry days are dark and drear

And all the forest ways grow still,

When gray snow-laden clouds appear

Along the bleak horizon hill,

When cattle all are snugly penned

And sheep go huddling close together,

When steady streams of smoke ascend

From farm-house chimneys,—in such weather

Give me old Carolina’s own,

A great log house, a great hearthstone,

A cheering pipe of cob or briar,

And a red, leaping light’ood fire.

When dreary day draws to a close

And all the silent land is dark,

When Boreas down the chimney blows

And sparks fly from the crackling bark,

When limbs are bent with snow or sleet

And owls hoot from the hollow tree,

With hounds asleep about your feet,

Then is the time for reverie.

Give me old Carolina’s own,

A hospitable wide hearthstone,

A cheering pipe of cob or briar,

And a red, rousing light’ood fire.