He clinging to her gown?

More than one day—more than one night,

Comes on them there alone!

They search for blackberries, so weak

And starving they are grown,

Now through a thicket of wild brier,

Now ’gainst a hindering stone!

Then they lie down to die, poor babes!

The cruel ground receives

Their little bodies as a bed;

Long time the south wind grieves

Above them; and a hovering bough

A pall of shadow weaves;

And robin-red-breasts pity them,

And cover them with leaves!

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[ THE THREE LITTLE PIGS]