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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LONG JOHN BROWN AND LITTLE MARY BELL by WILLIAM BLAKE SIX TOWN ECLOGUES: SATURDAY; THE SMALL-POX by MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU RESIGNATION by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE PIRATE TREASURE by BERTON BRALEY VERSAILLES (1784) by STOPFORD AUGUSTUS BROOKE FO'C'S'LE YARNS: 1ST SERIES. SPIES ALTERA; TO THE FUTURE MANX POET by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |