To My Candle

Good Candle, thou that with thy brother, Fire,
Art my best friend and comforter at night,
Just snuff'd, thou look'st as if thou didst desire
That I on thee an epigram should write.

Dear Candle, burnt down to a finger-joint,
Thy own flame is an epigram of sight;
'Tis short, and pointed, and all over light,
Yet gives most light and burns the keenest at the point.
Valete et Plaudite.