From where I lingered in a lull of March Outside the sugar-house one night for choice, I called the fireman in a quiet voice And bade him leave the pan and stoke the arch: "O fireman, give the fire another stoke, And send more sparks up chimney with the smoke." I thought a few might tangle, as they did, Among bare maple boughs, and in the rare Hill atmosphere not cease to glow, And so be added to the moon up there. The moon, though slight, was moon enough to show On every tree a bucket with a lid, And on black ground one bear-skin rug of snow. The sparks made no attempt to be the moon. They were content to figure in the trees As Leo, Orion, and the Pleiades. And that was what the boughs were full of soon. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A TRIP TO PARIS AND BELGIUM: 16. ANTWERP TO GHENT by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI A TRIBUTE TO WILL ROGERS AND WILEY POST by ROSETTA THORSON BEACHLER THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: IMR EL KAIS by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT IT IS FINISHED by HORATIO (HORATIUS) BONAR STILL LIFE by ANNE MILLAY BREMER KING VICTOR EMANUEL ENTERS FLORENCE, APRIL, 1860 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING WRETTEN BY ME ON THE DEATH OF MY CHILD ROBERT PAYLER by MARY CAREY TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. THE LONG DAY IN THE OPEN by EDWARD CARPENTER |