The long ladders follow the engine and hose.
The men are all ready to dash into battle;
But will they come out again? God only knows.

At windows and doorways crowd questioning faces;
There's something about it that quickens one's breath.
How proudly the brave fellows sit in their places -
And speed to the conflict that may be their death!

Still faster and faster and faster and faster
The grand horses thunder and leap on their way
The red foe is yonder, and may prove the master;
Turn out there, bold traffic--turn out there, I say!

For once the loud truckman knows oaths will not matter
And reins in his horses and yields to his fate.
The engines are coming! let pleasure-crowds scatter,
Let street car and truckman and mail waggon wait.

They speed like a comet--they pass in a minute;
The boys follow on like a tail to a kite;
The commonplace street has but traffic now in it -
The great fire engines have swept out of sight.



THE TIDES