To face a worse than empty home Without child or mate. 'Twas not my strife askt him his life When it was but begun, Nor mine, I was a new-made wife And now I am none; Nor mine that many a sapless ghost Wails in sorrow-fare— But this does cost my pride the most, That bloodshedding to share. Image of streaming eyes, tear-gleaming, Of women foiled and defeat, I am like Christ shockt out of dreaming, Showing His hands and feet; Showing His feet and hands to God, Saying, "Are these in vain? For men I have trod the sorrowful road, And by them I am slain." [Pg 7] Seeing I have a breast in common,