Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. Men make them fires on the hearth<br>Each under his roof-tree, <br>And the Four Winds that rule the earth<br>They blow the smokes to me.<br><br>Across the high hills and the sea<br>And all the changeful skies, <br>The Four Winds blow the smoke to me<br>Till the tears are in my eyes.<br><br>Until the tears are in my eyes<br>And my heart is wellnigh broke;<br>For thinking on old memories<br>That gather in the smoke.<br><br>With every shift of every wind<br>The homesick memories come, <br>From every quarter of mankind<br>Where I have made me a home.<br><br>Four times a fire against the cold<br>And a roof against the rain -<br>Sorrow fourfold and joy fourfold<br>The Four Winds bring again!<br><br>How can I answer which is best<br>Of all the fires that burn?<br>I have been too often host or guest<br>At every fire in turn.
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