 | [Poems by Piatt in] Poems of two friends |  |
67
PRAIRIE-FIRES.
How bright this dim Autumnal eve,
While the wild Twilight clings around,
Clothing the silence everywhere,
With scarce a dream of sound!
While the wild Twilight clings around,
Clothing the silence everywhere,
With scarce a dream of sound!
The high horizon's northern line,
With many a silent-leaping spire,
Seems a dark shore—a sea a-flame—
Quick, crawling waves of fire!
With many a silent-leaping spire,
Seems a dark shore—a sea a-flame—
Quick, crawling waves of fire!
I stand in golden solitude,
October breathing low and chill,
And watch the far-off leaps of flame
Playing the wind's wild will!
October breathing low and chill,
And watch the far-off leaps of flame
Playing the wind's wild will!
I see the vanished autumns blown
Through years that leave no leaves lie dead,
To rustle through the Past and stir
Beneath historic tread;
Through years that leave no leaves lie dead,
To rustle through the Past and stir
Beneath historic tread;
These boundless fields of green, once more,
Old summers' rustling sunshine stir,
And wild, wide autumns blowing Fire,
A lone bright harvester!
Old summers' rustling sunshine stir,
And wild, wide autumns blowing Fire,
A lone bright harvester!
68
Ere the wide highway of the sun
Was full of Emigration's dust;
Ere the wide River, wearing heaven,
A sunny fountain thrust.
Was full of Emigration's dust;
Ere the wide River, wearing heaven,
A sunny fountain thrust.
I see wide terror blown before—
Wild steeds, wild herds of bison here,
And, blown before the flying flame,
The flying-footed deer!
Wild steeds, wild herds of bison here,
And, blown before the flying flame,
The flying-footed deer!
Lone wagons bivouack'd in the flames
That, long ago, flashed wildly past:
Faces, from that bright solitude,
A gleam of terror cast!
That, long ago, flashed wildly past:
Faces, from that bright solitude,
A gleam of terror cast!
Lone trains with drowsy bells that rang
Along red twilights dying slow,
Whose wheels turned wearily their way
Through autumns, long ago.
Along red twilights dying slow,
Whose wheels turned wearily their way
Through autumns, long ago.
A gleam of faces like a dream!
No history after nor before—
Inside the horizon with the Flames—
The Flames!—nobody more!
No history after nor before—
Inside the horizon with the Flames—
The Flames!—nobody more!
That Vision vanishes in me—
That Reaper swift, and wild and bright!
Another steals through me—through all
The solitude, to-night.
That Reaper swift, and wild and bright!
Another steals through me—through all
The solitude, to-night.
69
The horizon lightens everywhere;
Wide sunshine hangs in breezy maize:
And, everywhere, the voice of Man,
And Childhood's sunny lays.
Wide sunshine hangs in breezy maize:
And, everywhere, the voice of Man,
And Childhood's sunny lays.
Far city spires against the sun—
White villages of quiet sweet—
And, echoes for the heaven above,
Homes smiling through the wheat.
White villages of quiet sweet—
And, echoes for the heaven above,
Homes smiling through the wheat.
No longer, driven by winds, the Fire
Flashes yon flaming sickle fleet,
But, numberless as the stars of heaven,
Home's window-stars shine sweet!
Flashes yon flaming sickle fleet,
But, numberless as the stars of heaven,
Home's window-stars shine sweet!
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