Page:Rudyard Kipling's verse - Inclusive Edition 1885-1918.djvu/112

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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.

Until the tears are in my eyes

And my heart is wellnigh broke

For thinking on old memories

That gather in the smoke.

With every shift of every wind

The homesick memories come,

From every quarter of mankind

Where I have made me a home.

Four times a fire against the cold

And a roof against the rain—

Sorrow fourfold and joy fourfold

The Four Winds bring again!

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.

How can I turn from any fire,

On any man's hearthstone?

I know the wonder and desire

That went to build my own!

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?