Fire

In each black tile a mimic fire's aglow,
    And in the hearthlight old mahogany,
    Ripe with stored sunshine that in Mexico
    Poured like gold wine into the living tree
    Summer on summer through a century,
    Burns like a crater in the heart of night:
    And all familiar things in the ingle-light
    Glow with a secret strange intensity.

    And I remember hidden fires that burst
    Suddenly from the midnight while men slept,
    Long-smouldering rages in the darkness nursed
    That to an instant ravening fury leapt,
    And the old terror menacing evermore
    A crumbling world with fiery molten core.