Barely visible at the bottom of the page are a few scratched-out lines of ink. If examined closely, they seem to form these lines:
Good-night Isil, thou silver sphere,
Good-night to friends both far and near,
Good-night to birds and beasts at play,
And flowers blooming in the day.
For you may close your blinking eyes
And slumber while my mind still lies
Awake, restlessly gazing on
A face upon my memory drawn.
