SWAY LIGHT

The candle whispers in the moonlight

of the wondrous days gone away,

when the candid canon's mighty fight

faltered naught on any night or day.

The tiny flame sputtered in spite

of the creeping, climbing ray

that lights the faulting might

when the crescent-face stops to play.

The crooked day of my dusky night

hums a quieted room for play

where no one has ever fared delight

below the flicker's wilted bouquet.