Ella Wheeler Wilcox (Элла Уилкокс)
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.
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