OLD FIRES

The fire burns low

Where it has burned ages ago,

Sinks and sighs

As it has done to a hundred eyes

Staring, staring

At the last cold smokeless glow.

Here men sat

Lonely and watched the golden grate

Turn at length black;

Heard the cooling iron crack:

Shadows, shadows,

Watching the shadows come and go.

And still the hiss

I hear, the soft fire's sob and kiss,

And still it burns

And the bright gold to crimson turns,

Sinking, sinking,

And the fire shadows larger grow.

O dark-cheeked fire,

Wasting like spent heart's desire,

You that were gold,

And now crimson will soon be cold —

Cold, cold,

Like moon-shadows on new snow.

Shadows all,

They that watched your shadows fall.

But now they come

Rising around me, grave and dumb....

Shadows, shadows,

Come as the fire-shadows go.

And stay, stay,

Though all the fire sink cold as clay,

Whispering still,

Ancestral wise Familiars — till,

Staring, staring,

Dawn's wild fires through the casement glow.