I know that some can burn their candle at both ends

The excess light of squandered youth at last offends

Some can adjust their volume high or make it low

And some create such splendor with their spectral show

That the moon herself turns her face from such display

As she enveils demeanor more subdued than day.

Others’ flames so low their glow is like a firefly's

They burn for years in secret meadow hide-aways.

Some are so fuel-soaked, they incinerate nightly.

All ether and flame, my candle dothe burn brightly

yet only burns when lit by love's inspiration

Ask yourself if you have considered this question,

"The bright shining of a candle doth give thee light,"*

"Will thy candle burn less brightly for lighting mine?"**