large/7359/childs_garden_of_verses_1503_librivox_64kb_mp3/childsgardenofverses_10_stevenson_64kb_0
large/7359/childs_garden_of_verses_1503_librivox_64kb_mp3/childsgardenofverses_10_stevenson_64kb
English
7359
Then once again the glow returns; Again the phantom city burns; And down the red hot valley, lo! The phantom armies marching go! THEN ONCE AGAIN THE GLOW RETURNS AGAIN THE FANTASTONE CITY BURNS AND DOWN THE RED HOT VALLEY LOW THE FENASHAN ARMY MARCHING GO
Away behind the sofa back. There, in the night, where none can spy, All in my hunter's camp I lie, And play at books that I have read Till it is time to go to bed. These are the hills, these are the woods, These are my starry solitudes; And there the river by whose brink The roaring lions come to drink. I see the others far away As if in firelit camp they lay, And I, like to an Indian scout, Around their party prowled about. So, when my nurse comes in for me, Home I return across the sea, And go to bed with backward looks At my dear land of Story-books. [Illustration] ARMIES IN THE FIRE The lamps now glitter down the street; Faintly sound the falling feet; And the blue even slowly falls About the garden trees and walls. Now in the falling of the gloom The red fire paints the empty room: And warmly on the roof it looks, And flickers on the backs of books. Armies march by tower and spire Of cities blazing, in the fire;-- Till as I gaze with staring eyes, The armies fade, the lustre dies.  THE WALL AND FOLLOW AROUND THE FOREST TRACK AWAY BEHIND THE SOFA BACK THERE IN THE NIGHT WHERE THAT COULD SPY ALL IN MY HUNTERS COUNT I LIE AND PLAY AT BOOKS THAT I HAVE READ TILL IT IS TIME TO GO TO BED THITHER THEY ALL THE OTHER THE WOOD THE OTHER BY STARRY SOLITUDE AND THERE THE RIVER BY WHOSE BRINK THE ROARING WIRE INS COME TO DRINK I I SEE THE OTHERS FAR AWAY AS IF IN FIRELIGHT CAMP THEY LAY AND I LIKE TO AN INDIAN SCALP AROUND THEIR PARTY PROWL ABOUT SO WHEN BIDERS CUBS IT FER ME HOPE I RETURN ACROSS THE SEA AND GO TO BED WITH BACKWARD LOOKS AT MY DEAR LAD'S STORY BOOKS ARM EVEN THE FIRE THE LAUGH NOW GLITTERED DOWN THE STREET FAINTLY SOUND THE FALLING FEET AND THE BLUE EVEN SLOWLY FALLS ABOUT THE GARDEN TREES AND WALLS NOW IN THE FALLING OF THE GLOOM THE RED FIRE PAINTS THE EMPTY ROOM AND WARMLY ON THE ROOF IT LOOKS AND SLICKERS ON THE BACKS OF BOOKS ARMIES MARCHED BY TOWER AND SPIRE OF CITIES BLAZING IN THE FIRE TILL AS I GAZE WITH STARING EYES THE ARMY'S FADE AND BLUSTER DIES
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