The sad tidings broke the old father's heart.

He went about as before, caring for his sheep.

To the hollow dell, too, he would repair from time to time, meaning to build at the unfinished fold.

But the neighbors in their pity noticed that he did little work in those sad days.
"'Tis believed by all That many and many a day he thither went And never lifted up a single stone.
There by the sheepfold sometimes was he seen Sitting alone, with that his faithful dog, Then old, beside him, lying at his feet.
The length of full seven years from time to time He at the building of his sheepfold wrought, And left the work unfinished when he died." Years after the shepherd was gone the remains of the unfinished fold were still there, a sad memorial of one who began to build but did not finish.

Sorrow broke his heart and his hand slacked.
Too often noble life-buildings are abandoned in the time of sorrow, and the hands that were quick and skilful before grief came, hang down and do nothing more on the temple-wall.