The fire burns bright on my hearth to-night;
Thanks to God for its warmth and light!
Warming the toes of our laughing boys,
Radiant over their Christmas toys;
Chasing the ghosts around the ceiling,
Filling our hearts with grateful feeling,
Ushering in the visions of rest, —
Welcome forever, thou beautiful guest!

See the fire from the engine gleaming!
See it over the lighthouse streaming!
Faithful and cheery, see it shine,
Down in the tunnel and deep in the mine!
Whence, O servant! didst thou inherit
Thy willing power and mighty spirit?
Forests of giant trees, they say,
Waved once their boughs in the light of day,
And down their gorgeous blossoms hurled
In the profligate life of a young, new world;
But the world rolled back and they crackled and bowed,
Like the stars of heaven rolled under a cloud,
And still in their crystal caverns deep,
Blossom, and beauty, and strength they keep;
And the tints of the forest return to invest
The blooming anew of our beautiful guest.

Alas, thou truant! Thou canst not see
The ache in our hearts for the freak of thee,
When leaping out of thy cage one night,
Across the city thou took'st thy flight,
Knowing no more of the havoc and wrack,
Than the harmless heart of a maniac.
Thou thought'st it merry to imitate
On a grander scale, the glow of thy grate;
And the noise thou mad'st in thy diligence
Drowned the cry we lifted in impotence:
" O God! O Fire! Our hearthstones spare!
Oh, best of servants, return, forbear!
Oh, worst of masters, be satisfied
With the rent thou hast made in the mart of our pride! "
In vain; we heard in thy wild carouse
The buried forest's thunderous boughs,
And the brilliant blossoms that grew so high,
Again in their splendor climbed the sky.
We fled from the blaze like the prairie quail,
Or birds from their nests at the scream of the gale,
And stood in the night by the ruins' gleam,
Like the highway vagrant aroused from his dream.
Our Altars were gone and our walls overthrown;
Our temples were razed and our monuments prone;
Our boast — God forgive us! thou doest all best —
Chicago had flown like its beautiful guest.

O beautiful fire! returned anew,
To show us the faces courageous and true,
Assembled again around hearthstones low,
But warmed into hope by thy innocent glow!
The paintings were gone that reflected thy ray;
The books that beguiled the close of the day;
The burnished mirror, the carriage and span,
And the trophies of artist and artisan;
But something remained from the embers and wreck —
The wife heroic that clung to our neck;
Our sons that are never degenerate;
Our purpose, returned, like the flame in the grate,
To build the beautiful city again,
As a tower unto fate and example to men.
Oh! fire of the household, what carrier doves
Flew into our windows laden with loves,
From human nature — from foreign queen —
From Pharisee and from Magdalene!
Then, never till then, as thou canst attest,
We wept in thy presence, our beautiful guest!

This New Year's time, O kindly fire!
We gather around thee closer and nigher.
Be unto us a scourge no more,
But be that kindlier friend of yore,
Which warmed the cold limbs, sore and wet,
Of river-seeking, good Marquette,
And made the prairie like an inn
To lonely father Hennepin!
Burn brightly, while we keep in peace
Our dream of empire and increase,
As when the white man's vessel started
Our river's ripples long ago,
And calmly slept the lion-hearted
La Salle, beside the camp fire's glow!

Show us, O fire! in thy graceful curling,
The hut of the negro pioneer,
And the flag of Dearborn first unfurling
In the prairie's smoky atmosphere;
The low pirogues of the bold post trader
Set under the bank of poplar trees,
And the prowling form of the Indian raider,
Gartered with skunk's skin around the knees!
And hide, O fire! that scene in phlebotomy,
When the garrison filed through the stockade wall,
And Winnebago and Pottowattamie
Kept time to the tune of the dead march in Saul!

Who said that Chicago was perished, but blundered,
Though the silence of nature returned to the moor,
The gray wolf howled where the cannon had thundered,
And the wild goose piped to the voyageur:
To divide up our raiment contended all races, —
The French of St. Louis, the folks of Calumet;
Toledo, Milwaukee, and other small places,
The which to enumerate is to forget.
But the soldiers returned to their station,
Again the artillery spake,
And like a divine exhalation,
Chicago arose by the lake!
It was thee, O thou tyrant! that glowest, —
Unaware of thy freak or our ire, —
'Twas by thee that we conquered, thou knowest, —
Thou builder and spoiler, the fire!
To thy harness return, we forgive thee;
For the traffic thou gav'st, go in quest!
And the city revived shall enshrine thee,
Its beautiful guest!

Ah, me! The cold toes this winter,
And the candles burnt out in the socket;
Let us give them that tinder-box, money,
And burn a warm hole in their pocket!
There's a carrier's foot! Who would shun him?
Perhaps his extremities ache;
Let us heap coals of fire upon him,
And burn him alive at our stake!
Then, to-night, be he son or be sire,
As he counts o'er his coins of bequest,
He will smile at that terrible fire,
And call it HIS BEAUTIFUL GUEST !