VIGIL

Dark is the night,

The fire burns faint and low,

Hours — days — years,

Into grey ashes go;

I strive to read,

But sombre is the glow.

Thumbed are the pages,

And the print is small;

Mocking the winds

That from the darkness call;

Feeble the fire that lends

Its light withal.

O ghost, draw nearer;

Let thy shadowy hair,

Blot out the pages

That we cannot share;

Be ours the one last leaf

By Fate left bare!

Let's Finis scrawl,

And then Life's book put by;

Turn each to each

In all simplicity:

Ere the last flame is gone

To warm us by.