What is it that shoots from the mountain so high,
In many a beautiful spire?
What is it that curls and blazes to the sky?
This beautiful something is -fire.
************
Loud noises are heard in the caverns to groan,
Hot cinders fall thicker than snow;
Huge stones to a wonderful distance are thrown,
For burning fire rages below.
************
When winter blows bleakly, and bellows the storm,
And frostily twinkle the stars;
When bright burns the fire in the chimney so warm,
And the kettle sings shrill on the bars.
************
Then, call the poor traveller in, covered in snow,
And warm him with charity kind:
Fire is not so warm as the feelings that glow
In the friendly benevolent mind.
************
By fire, rugged metals are fitted for use;
Iron, copper, gold, silver and tin;
Without it we could not produce
So much as a minikin pin.
**********
Fire rages with fury wherever it comes;
If only one spark should be dropt,
Whole houses, or cities, sometimes it consumes,
Where its voilence cannot be stopped.
**********
And when the great morning of judgement shall rise,
How wide will its blazes be curled!
With heat, fervent heat, it shall melt down the skies,
And burn up this beautiful world.
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Love makes The World Go Round
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