Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936). Verse: 1885–1918. 1922.
The Fires
M
Each under his roof-tree,
And the Four Winds that rule the earth
They blow the smoke to me.
And all the changeful skies,
The Four Winds blow the smoke to me
Till the tears are in my eyes.
And my heart is wellnigh broke
For thinking on old memories
That gather in the smoke.
The homesick memories come,
From every quarter of mankind
Where I have made me a home.
And a roof against the rain—
Sorrow fourfold and joy fourfold
The Four Winds bring again!
Of all the fires that burn?
I have been too often host or guest
At every fire in turn.
On any man’s hearthstone?
I know the wonder and desire
That went to build my own!
Where’er his house-fires shine,
Since all that man must undergo
Will visit me at mine?
And know that this is true,
Stoop for a little and carry my song
To all the men I knew!
Or roofs against the rain—
With love fourfold and joy fourfold,
Take them my songs again!