what stood in that first letter from his beloved.

I also remember two other eyes--it is strange how one's thoughts fly
about!--there was a grand funeral here in the street, the beautiful
young wife lay in the coffin on the velvet-covered funeral car; there
were so many flowers and wreaths, there were so many torches burning,
that I was quite forgotten--out of sight; the whole footpath was
filled with persons; they all followed in the procession; but when the
torches were out of sight, and I looked about, there stood one who
leaned against my post and wept. I shall never forget those two
sorrowful eyes that looked into me. Thus there passed many thoughts
through the old street-lamp, which this evening burnt for the last
time. The sentinel who is relieved from his post knows his successor,
and can say a few words to him, but the lamp knew not its successor;
and yet it could have given him a hint about rain and drizzle, and how
far the moon shone on the footpath, and from what corner the wind
blew.

Now, there stood three on the kerb-stone; they had presented
themselves before the lamp, because they thought it was the
street-lamp who gave away the office; the one of these three was a
herring's head, for it shines in the dark, and it thought that it
could be of great service, and a real saving of oil, if it came to be
placed on the lamp-post. The other was a piece of touchwood, which
also shines, and always more than a stock-fish; besides, it said so
itself, it was the last piece of a tree that had once been the pride
of the forest. The third was a glow-worm; but where it had come from
the lamp could not imagine; but the glow-worm was there, and it also
shone, but the touchwood and the herring's head took their oaths that
it only shone at certain times, and therefore it could never be taken
into consideration.

The old lamp said that none of them shone well enough to be a
street-lamp; but not one of them thought so; and as they heard that it
was not the lamp itself that gave away the office, they said that it
was a very happy thing, for that it was too infirm and broken down to
be able to choose.

At the same moment the wind came from the street corner, it whistled
through the cowl of the old lamp, and said to it, "What is it that I
hear, are you going away to-morrow? Is it the last evening I shall
meet you here? Then you shall have a present!--now I will blow up your
brain-box so that you shall not only remember, cl