The Fireside

G F Bradby

In the ember’s drowsy glow

Fiery figures come and go,

Quiver into crimson light,

Now a goblin, now a knight,

While the winter wind makes moan

And the clock ticks on and on.

Snatches of mysterious rhymes,

(Fairy lore of nursery times)

Long imprisoned in the brain,

Leap to life and sing again;

Dreams forgotten with the waking,

Thoughts that vanished in the making,

Fancies, memories and moods,

Crowded hours and solitudes,

Ancient fears and old distresses,

Childhood’s wanderings and guesses –

Everything that one remembers

Makes a picture in the embers,

Grows to clearness, flickers, flashes

Burns a moment, then is ashes.

 

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