Backlog Dreams

by Frank Dempster Sherman

Above the glowing embers
I hear the backlog sing
The music it remembers
Of some remembered Spring;
Back to the branch forsaken
Return its jocund choir
And in the chimney waken
A melody of fire.

The sparks' red blossoms glisten
And flash their glances brief
At me who lean and listen
And dream I hear the leaf,
On some May morning sunny,
Low lisping in the tree, --
Or, in his haunt of honey,
A bloom-enamored bee:

Or 't is the soft wind blowing
Its sweetness from the South,
A fragrant kiss bestowing
Upon the rose's mouth;
And e'er the spell is broken,
Or darkness o'er it slips,
I see the scarlet token
Of love upon her lips.

Without, the storm is bitter,
The snowflakes fill the night;
Within, the embers glitter
And gild the room with light;
And in the fire-place gleaming
The backlog sings away,
And mingles all my dreaming
With birds and blooms and May.