‘ 20 (> 
Slow through the churchyard path, with funeral dirge 
The corpse was borne; she follow’d close behind: 
And some among that simple village train 
Appear’d expectant that an unseen hand 
Again would stay the bier—awake the dead— 
And to the widow her lost son restore. 
Ah, foolish thought! on, on they slowly moved: 
No hand omnipotent outstretch’d to save: 
The grave received its tenant, ‘ dust to dust ’— 
Those solemn words—were spoken, and the earth 
Shower’d on the coffin, told the rite was o’er. 
t: There were who would have follow’d to her home 
The poor bereaved one, that she might not feel 
‘ So utterly alone;’ but there was that 
In her deep, voiceless grief, which seem’d to check 
Tli’ expression of the sympathy it roused. 
So, to her desolate home alone she went, 
Enter’d the dreary threshold—clos’d the door. 
What met her gaze ? the now forsaken couch, 
Wearing the impress still—heart-sickening sight! — 
Of the loved burden it so lately bore. 
With shudd’ring dread, she turn’d her eye away, 
And in its meaningless survey, it fell, 
Shall I say, heav’n-directed, or by chance ? 
