The lamps now glitter down the street; Faintly sound the falling feet; And the blue even slowly falls About the garden trees and walls. Now in the falling of the gloom The red fire paints the empty room: And warmly on the roof it looks, And flickers on the back of books. Armies march by tower and spire Of cities blazing, in the fire;-- Till as I gaze with staring eyes, The armies fall, the lustre dies. Then once again the glow returns; Again the phantom city burns; And down the red-hot valley, lo! The phantom armies marching go! Blinking embers, tell me true Where are those armies marching to, And what the burning city is That crumbles in your furnaces! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEDICATION TO THE LATER SONNETS TO URANIA by GEORGE SANTAYANA PRAISE FOR AN URN; IN MEMORIAM: ERNEST NELSON by HAROLD HART CRANE CINQUAIN: SUSANNA AND THE ELDERS by ADELAIDE CRAPSEY THE LIVING TEMPLE by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES ON A CURATE'S COMPLAINT OF HARD DUTY by JONATHAN SWIFT THE AFTER WOMAN by FRANCIS THOMPSON MYRMIDONES: THE WOUNDED EAGLE by AESCHYLUS TO BARON DE STONNE WITH AIKIN'S ESSAYS ON SONG-WRITING by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |