That my faint life new strength would gain from God.
But now so white, so thin, my body seems,
With scarce enough of substance left in it
To be a ghost;—ah, what if, like a ghost,
It soon should vanish?
So I thought, to-night,
If I could tell you this, confess my fault,
Unload my heart of all her sweet, sad love,
That God might give me rest. I did not, nay,
I did not mean it, to excite myself.