The dying words of Goethe.
"Light! more light! the shadows deepen, And my life is ebbing low, Throw the windows widely open:
Light! more light! before I go.
"Softly let the balmy sunshine Play around my dying bed, E'er the dimly lighted valley I with lonely feet must tread.
"Light! more light! for Death is weaving Shadows 'round my waning sight, And I fain would gaze upon him Through a stream of earthly light."
Not for greater gifts of genius;Not for thoughts more grandly bright, All the dying poet whispers Is a prayer for light, more light.
Heeds he not the gathered laurels, Fading slowly from his sight;All the poet's aspirations Centre in that prayer for light.
