Their sin to earth,—and with low drooping head
Receive the solemn blessing, and implore
Its grace—then soberly with chasten'd tread,
They meekly press towards the gusty door
With humbled eyes that go to graze upon
The lowly grass—like him of Babylon.
And she, the lonely widow,
XXII.
And she, the lonely widow,
The lowly grass!—O water-constant mind!