Death Of A Friend.
And I had come to say some magic word,
That might appease the sorrow for a spell,
Some simple thing no other ear had heard.
Prostrate o'er his still form the loving wife,
Begged, pleaded and implored those lips of clay,
To speak again, to give one sign of life,
And lift the awful load from her away.
I took her trembling hand in mine and tried
To speak the tender word I wished to say,
My tongue was dumb ___ my flowing tears had dried,
I pressed her hand again and turned away.
(Madison, Wis.: American Thresherman. 1901)