PICTURES IN THE FIRE.
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That was gone, and lo! before me, A cathedral vast and grim;I could almost hear the organ Peal along the arches dim.
As I watched the wreathèd pillars, Groves of stately palms arose,And a group of swarthy Indians Stealing on some sleeping foes.
Stay: a cataract glancing brightly Dashed and sparkled; and besideLay 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.
