Page:Modern Russian Poetry.djvu/105

Rh Like the green dream of fireflies kindled at night, Like the will-o'-the-wisp in the haze, Like the dark, scalloped clouds the grave evening has gilded with light, That have spread forth their mourning upon the dim face of the smoldering days. I remember, O Fire, How thy flames once enkindled my flesh, Among writhing witches caught close in thy flame-woven mesh. How, tortured for having beheld what is secret, We were flung to the fire for the joy of our sabbath. But to those who had seen what we saw Yea, Fire was naught. Ah, well I remember The buildings ablaze where we burned In the fires we lit, and smiled to behold the flames wind About us, the faithful, among all the faithless and blind. To the chanting of prayers, the frenzy of flame, We sang thy hosannahs, oh strength-giving Fire: I pledged love to thee from the pyre! Oh, Fire, I know That thy light with an ultimate splendor our being shall drench; It shall flare up before eyes that Death fain would finally quench. With swift knowledge it burns, and with joy heaven-high At the vastness of vistas unfolding afar.