“Deep is her grief?” said Richard—“Truly deep, 10
And very still, and therefore seems to sleep.
To borrow simile to paint her woes,
Theirs, like the river’s, motion seems repose,
Making no petty murmuring—settled, slow,
They never waste, they never overflow.
Rachel is one of those—for there are some
Who look for nothing in their days to come,
No good nor evil, neither hope nor fear;
Nothing remains or cheerful or severe;