(supposed to be dying.)
Fleeting sun-beam, wandering here.
Only to prove that heaven is near.
Take away from me those eyes of light,
So blue, so beautiful, so bright;
Sorrow to thee is yet unknown,
Err'd hast thou never, lovely one,.
And thou art dying—thou wilt fly
Thus all unsullied to the sky—

Look not fondly thus on me,
Thing of unblemished purity;
For I have erred—and sorrowed too,
O do not love one frail like me,
Pass to thy rest—hy earth untouch'd,
Its love, its hate, unknown to thee—
Sun-beam thou art wandering here,
Only to show that heaven is near.