The lamps now glitter down the street; <br />Faintly sound the falling feet; <br />And the blue even slowly falls <br />About the garden trees and walls. <br /> <br />Now in the falling of the gloom <br />The red fire paints the empty room: <br />And warmly on the roof it looks, <br />And flickers on the back of books. <br /> <br />Armies march by tower and spire <br />Of cities blazing, in the fire;-- <br />Till as I gaze with staring eyes, <br />The armies fall, the lustre dies. <br /> <br />Then once again the glow returns; <br />Again the phantom city burns; <br />And down the red-hot valley, lo! <br />The phantom armies marching go! <br /> <br />Blinking embers, tell me true <br />Where are those armies marching to, <br />And what the burning city is <br />That crumbles in your furnaces!<br /><br />Robert Louis Stevenson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/armies-in-the-fire/
