The Dying Girl.
THROW open yonder window, sister dear,
For all seems gloomy and oppressive here;
I feel, alas! that I am dying now,
But the warm breeze may breathe upon my brow
And o'er my heart a soft and holy spell,
Bidding my faint and failing spirit swell
With the dear thoughts and visions that had power
To brighten life in childhood's fairy hour.
For all seems gloomy and oppressive here;
I feel, alas! that I am dying now,
But the warm breeze may breathe upon my brow
And o'er my heart a soft and holy spell,
Bidding my faint and failing spirit swell
With the dear thoughts and visions that had power
To brighten life in childhood's fairy hour.
I go, sweet sister, to yon far blue land
Where dwell the blest, a bright, angelic band,
Where radiant spirits chant their burning lay,
Their song of immortality, and stray
Where dwell the blest, a bright, angelic band,
Where radiant spirits chant their burning lay,
Their song of immortality, and stray
