The Lodging-house fire

My birthday—yesterday,

Its hours were twenty-four;

Four hours I lived lukewarm,

And killed a score.

Eight bells and then I woke,

Came to our fire below,

Then sat four hours and watched

Its sullen glow.

Then out four hours I walked,

The lukewarm four I live,

And felt no other joy

Than air can give.

My mind durst know no thought,

It knew my life too well:

’Twas hell before, behind,

And round me hell.

Back to that fire again,

Six hours I watch it now,

And take to bed dim eyes

And fever’s brow.

Ten hours I give to sleep,

More than my need, I know;

But I escape my mind

And that fire’s glow.