V

The only fount her heart became Rose quick with sighs, and fell in tears; While pink upon her white cheek came, (Like apple-blossom among pear's) The tinge of shame.

Her husband, pierced with new alarm, Bent nigh to ask of her distresses, Enclasping her with sheltering arm, Unwinding by discreet caresses, The thread of harm.

Then she, with sobs of slow relief (For silence is the jail of care) Confessed, for him to heal or share, The first of human grief.