And my eyes, they were proud to read them,
In letters of living flame,
But to-night, in the fire, I see only
One Heart, one Face, and one Name.
But where are the olden pictures?
And where are the olden dreams?
Has a change come over my vision?
Or over the fire's bright gleams?
Not over my vision, surely;
My eyes — they are still the same,
That used to find in the firelight
So many a face and name.
Not over the firelight, either,
No change in the coals or blaze
That flicker and flash, as ruddy
To-night as in other days.
But there must be a change — I feel it.
To-night not an old picture came;
The fire's bright flames only painted
One Heart, one Face, and one Name.
Three pictures? No! only one picture;
The Face belongs to the Name,
And the Name names the Heart that is throbbing
Just back of the beautiful flame.
Who said it, I wonder: "All faces
Must fade in the light of but one;
The soul, like the earth, may have many
Horizons, but only one sun?"
Who dreamt it? Did I? If I dreamt it
'Tis true — every name passes by
Save one; the sun wears many cloudlets
Of gold, but has only one sky.
And out of the flames have they faded,
The hearts and the faces of yore?
Have they sunk 'neath the gray of the ashes
To rise to my vision no more?
Yes, surely, or else I would see them
To-night, just as bright as of old,
In the white of the coal's silver flashes,
In the red of the restless flames' gold.