I Sit Beside the Flames and Think

I sit beside the flames and think:

Of all the places I have been.
I think of faces I have seen,
Of frosty stars in midnight sheen;
And springtime blossoms, fresh and clean.

Of summers bright that came and went;
Of rivers cool and flower’s scent;
Of trees beneath the ages bent;
And silver mist from meadows sent.

Of roads I climbed by heart and hand,
The windy vales, the sweeping land;
Of things I wish to understand;
And dreams I saw on sleepy sand.

I think of people, long ago,
The secrets I will never know;
I think of journeys yet to be:
On roads that I will never see.