Some candle clear burns somewhere I come by. 
I muse at how its being puts blissful back 
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 lack 
Of answer the eagerer a-wanting Jessy or Jack 
There God to aggrándise, God to glorify.? 

Come you indoors, come home; your fading fire 
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 fault 
In a neighbour deft-handed? Are you that liar 
And, cast by conscience out, spendsavour salt?