All the little lights

In want of comforts

Want is not but dying peace
A thing we can't afford
But still we clamber piles of
Till what we loves' no more

Need is not but desperate want
A force that will destroy
And loneliness in company
Known well when I a boy

And nothing could compare to peace
Of body and of mind
That is afforded after grief
Once left the wants behind

"Give not of comfort!" Grief beseech
Nor company of life
And burning absence gifted here
Burns hot with bitter strife

And nothing grieves the most but death
A peaceful, empty place
That hounds the living souls to join
And helps them set the pace

And reason given to assume
The coldness of despair
Is not but want and grief combined
That dulls the thicker air