The poem opens with a joke that doubles as a question: who could be against fire, except books? That small aside carries a lot. Fire is warm and alive, but it is also what destroys paper, so the speaker's praise already admits its danger.
After that, the poem turns into a string of surprising comparisons. Fire is "sand on the back," a "kiss in the dark," even "the opinion of a match." These images are small, physical and a little mischievous. They suggest that fire is less a big roaring thing than a feeling: grit, intimacy, a sudden spark of judgment. The last image, a masquerade where "antique dresses dance," makes flames look like old costumes swirling, glamorous and slightly ghostly.
The speaker seems playful and affectionate rather than solemn. The mood is light, sensual and a bit teasing, with a shadow of loss lingering behind the humor.