XI.

The gold haired maid and hoary man
Together knelt beside the bed,
And saw with helpless gaze the span
That parts the living from the dead.

XII.

Slow dragged the following day: the dear
Familiar life for him was gone;
The Past was something dark and drear
That he must look at now alone.

XIII.

But all his fondest heart awoke,
And opened toward his orphan child;
To her with cheerful ease he spoke,
And wondering marked she never smiled.

XIV.

She knew not what the mind will bear,
Yet only learn the more to brave;
It seemed the world so large and fair
Must sink within her mother's grave.

XV.

That grave himself would Simon make,
And she could only turn and groan,
When first the spade she saw him take,
As if the grief were not his own.

XVI.

Then soon the burial pang was o'er,
And calmer flowed the stream again;
But Jane would never witness more
An open grave, or funeral train.

XVII.

The maiden now was left to be
Her father's only prop and stay,
And in her looks was plain to see
A heart resolved, but never gay;

XVIII.

A loveliness that made men sad,
Like some delightful, mournful ditty,
Too fair for any but the bad
To think of without love and pity.

XIX.

Each household task she duly wrought,
No change but one the house could know,
And peace for her was in the thought,
Her mother would have wished it so.

XX.

But often in the silent hours
Of summer dawn, while all were sleeping,
She rose to gather fragrant flowers,
And wet their leaves with weeping.