It is all over.

A week ago her head rested on my bosom.
It is laid in the churchyard now; the fresh earth lies heavy over her grave.

I and my dearest friend, the sister of my love, are parted in this world forever.
I followed her funeral alone through the cruel, hustling streets.

Sally, I thought, might have offered to go with me, but she never so much as came into my room.

I did not like to think badly of her for this, and I am glad I restrained myself; for, when we got into the churchyard, among the two or three people who were standing by the open grave I saw Sally, in her ragged gray shawl and her patched black bonnet.