Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE AMERICAN FIREMAN, by CHRISTOPHER BANNISTER First Line: A clamor and clatter of galloping hoofs Last Line: Had half such a guerdon won. Subject(s): Fire; Firefighters; Heat; Smoke; Water | ||||||||
A CLAMOR and clatter of galloping hoofs With their rhythm of granite and steel, A clangor of gongs resounding along From beetling block to block, And out of the dark with many a spark Great engines rush and reel, The wagons with hose, the ladders and hooks, And ever the sudden shock That the shout of "Fire!" thrills into the night, That the burning pine and the eddying light Bring home to the heart to make it leap, To the feet to make them race Wherever the cries and confusion arise And the crowds press on apace. Enveloping every darkling height Which the storeyed canyons lift, From the seething caldron underneath, The billowing vapors swirl; On the shrinking crowd with a jangling loud The hose-carts sway, and swift At the corners drop the lengthening bands, And on to the burning whirl; But the engine ends its fiery trail With the hose made fast and an answering wail As the helmeted Chief in shadowy white Through the glooming trumpets, "Play!" And the pipemen grip at the golden lip Where the gushing waters spray. Through pillared smoke from the windows a-row Huge flashes shimmer and sweep To redden the faces of men in the street And the face of the clouds in the sky; There's a clashing of glass, and the lanterned men pass As the arrowy fountains leap, And hoarsening, echoing noises go up Where the cornices smoulder on high; While over the din with a pulsing hum The thunder and purr of the engines come, And the meteors rise from their quivering throats To fall by their vibrant frames, Till the murkiest gleam turns pallid with steam As their showers drown the flames. On the roofs around in the tremulous light There are dusky shapes discerned; There are those who haul great ribands of pipe Aloft by the sheerest strength; There are glimpsing forms in the midst of storms By flickering fire-gusts burned; There are mighty ladders alive with men Uplifting their fathoms of length; And by them all and over them all Was the staunch old Chief with his cheer and call, With a wit that made this machine of men And engines a living whole, With a quick resource and an undrained force That gave it responsive soul. All this the gathering throng below Can see through the glimmer afar; With a shout outflung for each fiery tongue, They cheer as it were at a game; They sigh for the black of the night brought back; Nor think of the desperate war, Of the maddening toil, and the reek to breathe, And the garments of shuddering flame: For if ever they reckoned the direful harm And the seething fate and the long alarm That the firemen fends from all they love By his duty simply done, No warrior a-stain with the blood of his slain Had half such a guerdon won. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...STARS WHICH SEE, STARS WHICH DO NOT SEE by MARVIN BELL WASHING OUR HANDS OF THE REST OF AMERICA by MARVIN BELL WATER, WINTER, FIRE by MARVIN BELL A MOTHER'S HEART by CHRISTOPHER BANNISTER |
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