Lord, let me be the torch that springs to light
And lives its life in one exultant flame,
One leap of living fire against the night,
Dropping to darkness even as it came.
For i have watched the smouldering of a soul
Choked in the ashes that itself hath made,
Waiting the slow destruction of the whole,
And turned from it, bewildered and afraid.
Light me with love-with hate-with all desire
For that I may not reach, but let me burn
My little moment inpulsating fire
Ere yet into the darkness I return;
Be it for guard, or menace, peace or sword,
Make me thy torch to burn out swiftly, Lord.
Theodosia Garrison

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