As the charred wood makes a hiss there, In our home's hearths that its flames warms, It's the bright sun in a clime fair That we yearn for - through the cold storms When the thawed frost turns to sweet air.
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As the charred wood makes a hiss there, In our home's hearths that its flames warms, It's the bright sun in a clime fair That we yearn for - through the cold storms When the thawed frost turns to sweet air.