HE 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 backs of books.

Armies march by tower and spire
Of cities blazing, in the fire ;
Till as I gaze with staring eyes,
The armies fade, the lustre dies,

95