Lyrics

I sit beside the fire and think Of all that I have seen Of meadow-flowers and butterflies In summers that have been Of yellow leaves and gossamer In autumns that there were With morning mist and silver sun And wind upon my hair I sit beside the fire and think Of how the world will be When winter comes without a spring That I shall ever see For still there are so many things That I have never seen In every wood and every spring There is a different green I sit beside the fire and think Of people long ago And people who will see a world That I shall never know But all the while I sit and think Of times there were before I listen for returning feet And voices at the door