The Watch

Marie Van Vorst (1867–1936)

By candle-light when every fine flame playedAbout your bed so long and cold and white,—I sat and kept my watch, and wept and prayedBy candle-light.

Till memories a holy, holy flightCame back from our far childhood's years, and stayedTouching us with their wings. And to thy bright

High presence, "I will be all days" (I said)"A torch to hold thy spirit's flame aright."This was the tender promise that I madeBy candle-light.