By The Fire

A poem by Aldous Huxley (1894 – 1963)

We who are lovers sit by the fire,

Cradled warm ‘twixt thought and will,

Sit and drowse like sleeping dogs

In the equipoise of all desire,

Sit and listen to the still

Small hiss and whisper of green logs

That burn away, that burn away

With the sound of a far-off falling stream

Of threaded water blown to steam,

Grey ghost in the mountain world of grey.

Vapours blue as distance rise

Between the hissing logs that show

A glimpse of rosy heat below;

And candles watch with tireless eyes

While we sit drowsing here. I know,

Dimly, that there exists a world,

That there is time perhaps, and space

Other and wider than this place,

Where at the fireside drowsily curled

We hear the whisper and watch the flame

Burn blinkless and inscrutable.

And then I know those other names

That through my brain from cell to cell

Echo–reverberated shout

Of waiters mournful along corridors:

But nobody carries the orders out,

And the names (dear friends, your name and yours)

Evoke no sign. But here I sit

On the wide hearth, and there are you:

That is enough and only true.

The world and the friends that lived in it

Are shadows: you alone remain

Real in this drowsing room,

Full of the whispers of distant rain

And candles staring into the gloom.

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Poems in English 

• When Lilacs Last in the Door-yard Bloom’d. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• When I read the Book. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• When I peruse the Conquer’d Fame. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• When I heard the Learn’d Astronomer. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• When I heard at the Close of the Day. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• What think You I take my Pen in Hand? by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• What Place is Besieged? by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• What General has a Good Army. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• What Best I See In Thee. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• What am I, After All? by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• We Two—How Long We were Fool’d. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• We Two Boys Together Clinging. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• Visor’d. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• Vigil Strange I Kept on the Field. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• Turn, O Libertad. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• To You. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• To Thee, Old Cause! by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• To the Garden the World. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• To One Shortly to Die. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• To Him that was Crucified. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman

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