Fire!--fire!--fire!--fire!--it sets me in a craze To see a first-class building all ablaze; A burning house resembles, when I'm nigh, Some old acquaintance just about to die; For structures that a person often sees Look some like human beings--same as trees. (There used to be some trees on my old place That I'd know anywhere--just by their face.) And when, last night, some bells began to cry, And big fire-engines rushed and rattled by, In just three minutes down the stairs I strode, And hurried--somewhat dressed--into the road (Partly to help a bit, if so might be, And partly, I suppose, to hear and see). It was a dark and thunder-stormy night; There wasn't one inch of honest sky in sight; Great black-finned clouds were swimming through the air, And now and then their lightning-eyes would glare, And, like a lot of cannon far away, Some peals of thunder came from o'er the bay. 'Twas one of those strange nights I can't explain, That make you think they're just a-going to rain, But never do--save now and then a trace Of a small drop comes dashing on your face; One of those nights that try to keep you vexed And wondering as to what will happen next. I like such times: they kind of draw me nearer To things unseen, and make all mystery clearer. I ran like sin, and reached the fire at last: A good-sized church was going, pretty fast. (I'd noticed it a hundred times or more, And several times had stepped inside the door.) The burglar flames within had prowled around A long time previous to their being found, Till they had gained such foothold and such might They'd turned to robbers--stealing plain in sight. The dome and spires had on them flags of red; They soon came thundering down from overhead. It looked as if infernal spirits came, To take this church away, in smoke and flame! I wondered, in that wild, expensive glare, How many of the home-robbed flock were there To see the shelter where their souls had fed Swept from existence by that broom of red. Here was the family pew, so long time prized; There was the font where they had been baptized; Here was the altar, where one day they stood, Started for Heaven, and promised to be good; Or where they'd wept around some cherished love Who'd "taken a letter" to The Church above. And still I thought, as my eyes soulward turned, How many things there are that can't be burned; But still we cling, and cling, and hate to part With the place where we found them on the start.