Meek spirit, who so early didst depart,
Thou art at rest in Heaven! I linger here,
And feed the lonely anguish of my heart;
Thinking of all that made existence dear.
All lost! If in this happy world above
Remembrance of this mortal life endure,
Thou wilt not then forget the perfect love
Which still thou see'st in me.—O spirit pure!
And if the irremediable grief,
The woe, which never hopes on earth relief,
May merit aught of thee; prefer thy prayer
To God, who took thee early to his rest,
That it may please him soon amid the blest
To summon me, dear maid! to meet thee there.