Yesterdays | ||
125
BURNED OUT
Blow out the light: there is no oil to feed it:
That dim blue light unworthy of the name.
Better to sit with folded hands, I say,
And wait for night to pass, and bring the day,
Than to depend upon that flickering flame.
That dim blue light unworthy of the name.
Better to sit with folded hands, I say,
And wait for night to pass, and bring the day,
Than to depend upon that flickering flame.
Take back your vow: there is no love to bind it:
Take back this little shining, golden thing.
Better to walk on bravely all alone,
Than strive to hold up, or retain our own,
By soulless pledge, or fetter of a ring.
Take back this little shining, golden thing.
Better to walk on bravely all alone,
Than strive to hold up, or retain our own,
By soulless pledge, or fetter of a ring.
When first the lamp was lit, too high you turned it;
The oil was wasted in a blinding blaze.
Your passion was too ardent in the start—
Set by the lamp: farewell. God gird the heart
Through darkened hours, and lone and loveless ways.
The oil was wasted in a blinding blaze.
Your passion was too ardent in the start—
Set by the lamp: farewell. God gird the heart
Through darkened hours, and lone and loveless ways.
Yesterdays | ||