Yesterdays — Burned Out

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.

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.

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.