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
And what the burning city is
That crumbles in your furnaces
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
Then once again the glow returns
Again the phantom city burns
And down the red-hot valley, lo
The phantom armies marching go
Blinking embers, tell me true
Where are those armies marching to
And what the burning city is
That crumbles in your furnaces