Pictures in the Fire.

What is it you ask me, darling ?1
                        
                        All my stories, child, you know ;2
                        
                        I have no strange dreams to tell you,3
                        
                        Pictures I have none to show.4
                        Tell you glorious scenes of travel ?5
                        
                        Nay, my child, that cannot be,6
                        
                        I have seen no foreign countries,7
                        
                        Marvels none on land or sea.8
                        Yet strange sights in truth I witness,9
                        
                        And I gaze until I tire ;10
                        
                        Wondrous pictures, changing ever,11
                        
                        As I look into the fire.12
                        There, last night, I saw a cavern,13
                        
                        Black as pitch ;  within it lay14
                        
                        Coiled in many folds a dragon,15
                        
                        Glaring as if turn’d at bay.16
                        And a knight in dismal armour17
                        
                        On a wingèd eagle came,18
                        
                        To do battle with this dragon ;19
                        
                        His towering crest was all of flame.20
                        
As I gazed the dragon faded,21
                        
                        And, instead, sate Pluto crowned,22
                        
                        By a lake of burning fir ;23
                        
                        Spirits dark were crouching round.24
                        That was gone, and lo !  before me,25
                        
                        A cathedral vast and grim ;26
                        
                        I could almost hear the organ27
                        
                        Roll along the arches dim.28
                        As I watched the wreathéd pillars,29
                        
                        A thick grove of palms arose,30
                        
                        And a group of swarthy Indians31
                        
                        Stealing on some sleeping foes.32
                        Stay ;  a cataract glancing brightly,33
                        
                        Dashed and sparkled ;  and beside34
                        
                        Lay a broken marble monster,35
                        
                        Mouth and eyes were staring wide.36
                        Then I saw a maiden wreathing37
                        
                        Starry flowers in garlands sweet ;38
                        
                        Did she see the fiery serpent39
                        
                        That was wrapped about her feet ?40
                        That fell crashing all and vanished ;41
                        
                        And I saw two armies close—42
                        
                        I could almost hear the clarions43
                        
                        And the shouting of the foes.44
                        They were gone ;  and lo !  bright angels45
                        
                        On a barren mountain wild,46
                        
                        Raised appealing arms to Heaven,47
                        
                        Bearing up a little child.48
                        And I gazed, and gazed, and slowly49
                        
                        Gathered in my eyes sad tears,50
                        
                        And the fiery pictures bore me51
                        
                        Back through distant dreams of years.52
                        Once again I tasted sorrow,53
                        
                        With past joy was once more gay,54
                        
                        Till the shade had gathered round me55
                        
                        And the fire had died away.56