What is it you ask me,darling?
All my stories,child,you know;
I have no strange dreams to tell you,Pictures I have none to show.
Tell you glorious scenes of travel?
Nay,my child,that cannot be,I have seen no foreign countries,Marvels none on land or sea.
Yet strange sights in truth I witness,And I gaze until I tire,Wondrous pictures,changing ever,As I look into the fire.
There,last night,I saw a cavern,Black as pitch;within it lay Coiled in many folds a dragon,Glaring as if turned at bay.
And a knight in dismal armour On a winged eagle came,To do battle with this dragon;And his crest was all of flame.
As I gazed the dragon faded,And,instead,sate Pluto crowned,By a lake of burning fire;Spirits dark were crouching round.
That was gone,and lo!before me,A cathedral vast and grim;I could almost hear the organ Peal alone the arches dim.
As I watched the wreathed 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 beside Lay 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.
Once again I tasted sorrow,With past joy was once more gay,Till the shade had gathered round me -And the fire had died away.
