Stoa In Memoriam

Be near me when my light is low.
When the blood creeps and the nerves prick
And tongle, and the heart is sick,
And all the wheels of beeing slow.
Be near me when the sensous frame
Is racked with pangs that conquer trust,
And time a maniac, scattering dust,
And life, a fury, slinging flame.
Be near me when my faith is dry,