TWO AT A FIRESIDE.
I built a chimney for a comrade old.
I did the service not for hope of hire,
And then I traveled on in winter’s cold,
Yet all the way I glowed before the fire.
Be noble! and the nobleness that lies
In other men, sleeping, but never dead,
Will rise in majesty to meet thine own;
Then wilt thou see it gleam in many eyes,
Then will pure light around thy path be shed,
And thou wilt nevermore be sad and lone.
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL