| Men make them fires on the hearth |
| Each under his roof-tree, |
| And the Four Winds that rule the earth |
| They blow the smoke to me. |
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| Across the high hills and the sea |
| And all the changeful skies, |
| The Four Winds blow the smoke to me |
| Till the tears are in my eyes. |
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| Until the tears are in my eyes |
| And my heart is wellnigh broke |
| For thinking on old memories |
| That gather in the smoke. |
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| With every shift of every wind |
| The homesick memories come, |
| From every quarter of mankind |
| Where I have made me a home. |
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| Four times a fire against the cold |
| And a roof against the rain - |
| Sorrow fourfold and joy fourfold |
| The Four Winds bring again! |
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| How can I answer which is best |
| Of all the fires that burn? |
| I have been too often host or guest |
| At every fire in turn. |
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| How can I turn from any fire, |
| On any man’s hearthstone? |
| I know the wonder and desire |
| That went to build my own! |
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| How can I doubt man’s joy or woe |
| Where’er his house-fires shine, |
| Since all that man must undergo |
| Will visit me at mine? |
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| Oh, you Four Winds that blow so strong |
| And know that this is true, |
| Stoop for a little and carry my song |
| To all the men I knew! |
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| Or roofs against the rain - |
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| Take them my songs again! |