The Candle Indoors

Some candle clear burns somewhere I come by.

I muse at how its being puts blissful

With yellowy moisture mild night's blear-all black,

Or to-fro tender trambeams truckle at the eye.

By that window what task what fingers ply,

I plod wondering, a-wanting, just for

Of answer the eagerer a-wanting Jessy or

There    God to aggrándise,

God to glorify.—Come you indoors, come home; your fading

Mend first and vital candle in close heart's vault:

You there are master, do your own desire;

What hinders?

Are you beam-blind, yet to a

In a neighbour deft-handed?

Are you that

And, cast by conscience out, spendsavour salt?