Men make them fires on the hearth<br>Each under his roof-tree,<br>And the Four Winds that rule the earth<br>They blow the smokes to me.<br><br>Across the high hills and the sea<br>And all the changeful skies,<br>The Four Winds blow the smoke to me<br>Till the tears are in my eyes.<br><br>Until the tears are in my eyes<br>And my heart is wellnigh broke;<br>For thinking on old memories<br>That gather in the smoke.<br><br>With every shift of every wind<br>The homesick memories come,<br>From every quarter of mankind<br>Where I have made me a home.<br><br>Four times a fire against the cold<br>And a roof against the rain -<br>Sorrow fourfold and joy fourfold<br>The Four Winds bring again!<br><br>How can I answer which is best<br>Of all the fires that burn?<br>I have been too often host or guest<br>At every fire in turn.