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[00:03.56]She At His Funeral by Thomas Hardy
[00:30.31]They bear him to his resting-place
[00:33.26]In slow procession sweeping by;
[00:36.71]I follow at a stranger's space;
[00:39.21]His kindred they, his sweetheart I.
[00:46.37]Unchanged my gown of garish dye,
[00:50.16]Though sable-sad is their attire;
[00:53.81]But they stand round with griefless eye,
[00:57.56]Whilst my regret consumes like fire