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.