Thou can’st not hear thy mother weep.
Oh, me, the anguish and the dread
Of that dark hour which lies ahead
When I shall see thee lying dead.
Clay, cold, and all my cares undone!
O perfect, pure, and stainless one,
My son, my own, my little son.
(A sound of sheep passing is heard. A shepherd stops at the door, and looks in. He draws off his hat.)
Shepherd. God’s peace be in this house. (He goes on his way)
Anna. Again!