Written from a distance, the speaker names the Gloucestershire landscapes he loves — Framilode, Redmarley, Cranham, Portway, May Hill, the Severn, Dymock in spring, the Malvern Hills. Saying the names seems to summon them: he sees them clear after rain, silvered with frost, bright with autumn colour or daffodils. The title captures the feeling: memory has kindled a fire of longing in him. That longing is tender but also painful. In the last stanza he is footsore and weary by quiet streams that are not his own, and he calls the visions “useless dreams.” The mood is a blend of vivid affection and homesick ache — the beauty of home feels close in his mind but impossibly far in reality.
The Fire Kindled — Summary
God, that I might see Framilode once again! Redmarley, all renewed, Clear shining after rain. And Cranham, Cranham trees, And blaze of Autumn hues. Portway under the moon, Silvered with freezing dews. May Hill that Gloster dwellers ’Gainst every sunset see; And the wide Severn river Homing again to the sea. The star of afterglow, Venus, on western hills; Dymock in spring: O spring Of home! O daffodils! And Malvern’s matchless huge Bastions of ancient fires-- These will not let me rest, So hot my heart desires.... Here we go sore of shoulder, Sore of foot, by quiet streams; But these are not my rivers.... And these are useless dreams.