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For him by his fond parent nurse; the last Was placed upon his pillow, and that night, That very night, he died! And he was laid In the same church-yard where his father lay,— Through which his mother as a bride had pass'd. The grave was closed: but still the widow sat Upon a sod beside, and silently, (Hers was not grief that words had comfort for.) The funeral train pass'd on, and she was left Alone amid the tombs; but once she looked Towards the shadowy lane, then turned again, As desolate and sick at heart, to where Her help, her hope, her child, lay dead together! She went home to her lonely room. Next morn Some entered it, and there she sat, Her white hair hanging o'er the withered hands