The First Fire On The Hearth

Clean as a new-built altar to the Gods The new hearth stands; No tears have stained, no prayers have hallowed it; Make clean thy hands As some High Priest who tends the holy flame Life-long in temples old; Bring not to kindle this divine first fire Wood that is bought and sold In common marts; but such as symbols clear The life that thou shalt make, Here under this new roof, by this new hearth, For Great Love’s sake.

Bring heart of pine to point thee to the stars; Higher and yet more high Thy thought on its green pinions shall ascend-- Yet keep thee ever nigh Tender and kind to every earth-born need; As low-spread cedar boughs Give grateful shade, or laid upon the fire Shed fragrance through the house. Here let the oak outspend his noble strength In flame that shall endure Beyond the last red coal to thy life’s end In strength as great and sure.

Lay here red sandal and dark orient teak, That their rich wood may turn To star-crowned dreams and visions in the flame Wherein their kindred burn; And mystic, harp-stringed branches of the palm-- Prophet and seer of trees-- Speeding thy life through all that can beset To noblest destinies: Bring these, as men bring votive offerings, And let rare spices fall Into the unswept flame. High, higher yet, Thy life at Love’s great call!