Old Fires

The fire burns low Where it has burned ages ago, Sinks and sighs As it has done to a hundred eyes Staring, staring At the last cold smokeless glow. Here men sat Lonely and watched the golden grate Turn at length black; Heard the cooling iron crack: Shadows, shadows, Watching the shadows come and go. And still the hiss I hear, the soft fire's sob and kiss, And still it burns And the bright gold to crimson turns, Sinking, sinking, And the fire shadows larger grow. O dark-cheeked fire, Wasting like spent heart's desire, You that were gold, And now crimson will soon be cold— Cold, cold, Like moon-shadows on new snow. Shadows all, They that watched your shadows fall. But now they come Rising around me, grave and dumb.... Shadows, shadows, Come as the fire-shadows go. And stay, stay, Though all the fire sink cold as clay, Whispering still, Ancestral wise Familiars—till, Staring, staring, Dawn's wild fires through the casement glow.