Worn with intensest thought,

She sunk at last—just at the “finis” sunk!—

And closed her eyes for ever! The soul-gem

Had fretted through its casket!

As I stood

Beside her tomb, I made a solemn vow

To take in charge that poor, lone orphan work,

And edit it!

My publisher I sought,

A learned man and good. He took the work,