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I paused one moment where I stood, In all a very miser's mood, As if that thinking of its store Could make my bosom's treasure more. I saw the guiding lamp which shone From the wreath'd lattice, pale and lone; Another moment I was there, To pause, and look—upon despair.

I saw her!—on the ground she lay, The life blood ebbing fast away; But almost as she could not die Without my hand to close her eye! When to my bosom press'd, she raised Her heavy lids, and feebly gazed, And her lip moved: I caught its breath, Its last, it was the gasp of death!