Pictures in the Flames

The chimney sweep came today and cleaned our fireplace and flue.  It was lovely to light a fire against the chill of the evening since we have yet to light the furnace.  As the scent of burning oak filled the room, fantastical scenes unfolded in the hearth.

Armies in the Fire

By Robert Louis Stevenson

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!