He blew the candle out:
He did not let it gutter out in smoke.

And, as they stood beside the bed
Where he lay dead,
Of him they spoke;
And this is what they said—

There's little doubt
He blew the candle out,
And God makes candles to burn to the stick;
And it is wickedness,
While there's a drop of grease
To feed the wick,
For anyone to dowse the light,
And let in the black night
And, like enough, for all that we can tell,
He'll have to burn for evermore in hell.

And, even as they spoke,
Their dull lives guttered low in grease and smoke.