Pictures in the Fire
Adelaide Anne
Procter
Procter, Adelaide Anne
Metadata research and editing
DVPP Project Team
Kylee-Anne Hingston
Samantha MacFarlane
Samantha MacFarlane
University of Victoria Digital Victorian Periodical Poetry
Victoria, BC, Canada
In the public domain
The Household Words Office Book indicates that she submitted this poem (which was published unsigned, as was the magazine’s practice) under the pseudonym Miss Berwick
(Lohrli 114). (AC)
Household Words
8
181
36–37
What is it you ask me, darling ?
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Pictures in the Fire
.
What is it you ask me, darling ?
All my stories, child, you know ;
I have no strange dreams to tell you,
Pictures I have none to show.
Tell you glorious scenes of travel ?
Nay, my child, that cannot be,
I have seen no foreign countries,
Marvels none on land or sea.
Yet strange sights in truth I witness,
And I gaze until I tire ;
Wondrous pictures, changing ever,
As I look into the fire.
There, last night, I saw a cavern,
Black as pitch ; within it lay
Coiled in many folds a dragon,
Glaring as if turn’d at bay.
And a knight in dismal armour
On a wingèd eagle came,
To do battle with this dragon ;
His towering crest was all of flame.
As I gazed the dragon faded,
And, instead, sate Pluto crowned,
By a lake of burning fir ;
Spirits dark were crouching round.
That was gone, and lo ! before me,
A cathedral vast and grim ;
I could almost hear the organ
Roll along the arches dim.
As I watched the wreathéd pillars,
A thick grove of palms arose,
And a group of swarthy Indians
Stealing on some sleeping foes.
Stay ; a cataract glancing brightly,
Dashed and sparkled ; and beside
Lay a broken marble monster,
Mouth and eyes were staring wide.
Then I saw a maiden wreathing
Starry flowers in garlands sweet ;
Did she see the fiery serpent
That was wrapped about her feet ?
That fell crashing all and vanished ;
And I saw two armies close—
I could almost hear the clarions
And the shouting of the foes.
They were gone ; and lo ! bright angels
On a barren mountain wild,
Raised appealing arms to Heaven,
Bearing up a little child.
And I gazed, and gazed, and slowly
Gathered in my eyes sad tears,
And the fiery pictures bore me
Back through distant dreams of years.
Once again I tasted sorrow,
With past joy was once more gay,
Till the shade had gathered round me
And the fire had died away.