Poems (Jordan)/Beside the Grate
BESIDE THE GRATE
The fire was out—or so I vaguely thought, As dreamily I stirred the ashes, gray, While lost in meditation of the day,And all the varied blessings it had brought.But, as I thoughtlessly still turned my hand,Its motion into life the embers fanned, And suddenly a gleaming little spark—Followed by many more—I leaped up to sight; Until the former, all-encircling dark,Seemed set with flashing rubies, bleeding light;— Or's though the eyes of the long-buried Past—All socketted in mem'ries, dusty-dim— With murdr'ous glint were on the Present, cast,Threat'ning relentlessly, some vengeance grim; And charred fingers,—fleshless at ev'ry joint,—Into the Future (screened by shrunken hours Alone, so near it seemed!) reached forth to pointWhere piled, were all the thorns of Hope's fresh flow'rs! I thought me, ah, this a strong temptation isTo lure my thought from present,—future, bliss! Yet could not readily the dread dismiss.
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I shuddered. Was't the coldness of the room, Or some strange chill which only touched my heart?Did the raked ashes prophecy a doom To which my hand would give the guiding start?Was I a victim, tirelessly pursuedBy hidden hate; by eyes Death-spectacled?
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I never knew how long I sat to brood;— The starry sparks of Night, and those the ashes heldWere, with my strangely melancholy mood, By Dawn's pale pinion,—raised o'er all—dispelled.