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
And men the flies of latter spring
That lay their eggs, and sting and sing
And weave their petty cells and die
Be near me when I fade away
To point the term of human strife
And on the low dark verge of life
The twilight of eternal day
(Alfred Lord Tennyson)
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