A group of young men, probably soldiers, huddle together around a rough fireplace in a smoky, dark room. As they watch the shifting embers, the firelight carries them away from their grim surroundings. Their imaginations fill the cramped space with dew-wet blossoms, blue sky, white clouds, daffodils, and bluebells—images of home and the natural world they long for. They are not articulate, but their eyes reveal how deeply they feel. The speaker watches them with tenderness and a certain sadness, knowing they are waiting for sleep to drift them like seabirds across the water to a place where, someday, he hopes to walk beside them again. The mood is intimate and hushed—warm with shared dreaming, yet shadowed by longing and fragility.
Firelight — Summary
Silent, bathed in firelight, in dusky light and gloom The boys squeeze together in the smoky dirty room, Crowded round the fireplace, a thing of bricks and tin, They watch the shifting embers till the good dreams enter in, That fill the low hovel with blossoms fresh with dew, And blue sky and white clouds that sail the clear air through. They talk of daffodillies and the bluebells’ skiey bed, Till silence thrills and murmurs at the things they have said. And yet, they have no skill of words, whose eyes glow so deep, They wait for night and silence and the strange power of sleep, To lift them and drift them like sea-birds over the sea Where some day I shall walk again, and they walk with me.