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To the dark tomb, as conscious those around Would chide if he asked them; and when they threw The last earth on the coffin, down he laid His little head, and sobbed most bitterly. And Edward took him in his arms, and kissed His wet pale cheeks; while the child clung to him, Not with the shyness of one petted, loved, And careless of a stranger's fond caress, But like one knowing well what kindness was, But knew not where to seek it, as he pined Beneath neglect and harshness, fear and want. 'Twas strange, this mingling of their destinies: That boy was Marion's—it was Marion's grave! She had died young, and poor, and broken-hearted. Her husband had deserted her: one child Was buried with its mother, one was left