Poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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.

1. At the Boro Boedoer
2. Sonnets of Sorrow. 18. The wise ones tell me that my heart's wild clamour
3. The Coming Man
4. Ye Agents
5. Geraldine

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