a lighthouse keeper with a loving heart

toiled at his service in the lonely tower,

keeping his giant lenses clear and bright,

and feeding with pure oil the precious light

whose power to save was as his own heart’s power.

he loved his kind, and being set alone

to help them by the means of this great light,

he poured his whole heart’s service into it,

and sent his love down the long beams that lit

the waste of broken water in the night.

he loved his kind, and joyed to see the ships

come out of nowhere into his bright field,

and glide by safely with their living men,

past him and out into the dark again,

to other hands their freight of joy to yield.

his work was noble and his work was done;

he kept the ships in safety and was glad;

and yet, late coming with the light’s supplies,

they found the love no longer in his eyes—

the keeper of the light had fallen mad.