Armies in the Fire

The lamps now glitter down the street; Faintly sound the falling feet; And the blue even slowly falls About the garden trees and walls.

Now in the falling of the gloom The red fire paints the empty room: And warmly on the roof it looks, And flickers on the backs of books.

Armies march by tower and spire Of cities blazing, in the fire; Till as I gaze with staring eyes, The armies fade, the lustre dies.

Then once again the glow returns; Again the phantom city burns; And down the red-hot valley, lo! The phantom armies marching go!

Blinking embers, tell me true, Where are those armies marching to, And what the burning city is That crumbles in your furnaces!

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