Here, where the wavering hearth-fire pants and glows, What ancient god survives from nameless days When man, flint-armored, trod disastrous ways, Defying sabre-fanged and lamp-eyed foes With fluttering torch; or crouched at daylight's close Deep in some coaly cavern from whose rocks With hissing brands he drove the wolves in flocks, Guarding his blazing logs without repose. Long, long those flames are ashes! Now the earth Is filled, by bloodshot genii of the fires, With iron mill and charcoal-blackened town. New flames, turned foe, shall smack their lips in mirth When skies burn red and all man's flags and spires In one gray smoky ruin come roaring down! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MODERN MOTHER by ALICE MEYNELL EPISTLE TO MRS. BLOUNT, WITH THE WORKS OF VOITURE by ALEXANDER POPE SONNET: 98 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 8. MUHAIMIN by EDWIN ARNOLD STANZAS TO A FRIEND by BERNARD BARTON |