The man held the hand of his wife, his pride,
His poor life’s treasure, and crouched[1224] by her side.
I touched and called him; he heeded me not;
So I dug her grave in a quiet spot,
And lifted them both, her boy on her breast,
And laid them down in the shade to rest.
Then I tried to take my poor friend away,
But he cried so woefully, “Let me stay[1225]
Till she comes again!” that I had no heart
To try to persuade him then to part