Far in the night, and yet no rest for him! The pillow next his own
The wife's sweet face in slumber pressed — yet he awake — alone! alone!
In vain he courted sleep; — one thought would ever in his heart arise, —
The harsh words that at noon had brought the tear-drops to her eyes.

Slowly on lifted arm he raised and listened. All was still as death;
He touched her forehead as he gazed, and listened yet, with bated breath:
Still silently, as though he prayed, his lips moved lightly as she slept —
For God was with him, and he laid his face with hers and wept.