That bore e'en then the double wedding rings.
She laid her aching head upon his breast,—
When from her lips came forth a cry,—a shriek,
Like to a hare's when shot: and Miriam came,
And bore her senseless from the room of death.
'Twas strange how quick the widow's glance had caught
Each little circumstance of the chamber,
And noted in her loving memory,—
How on the table lay his Bible—closed:
No need had Enoch now of Holy Writ,