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     But two that do can't live together with them."
     She moved the latch a little. "Don't -- don't go.
     Don't carry it to someone else this time.
     Tell me about it if it's something human.
     Let me into your grief. I'm not so much
     Unlike other folks as your standing there
     Apart would make me out. Give me my chance.
     I do think, though, you overdo it a little.
     What was it brought you up to think it the thing
     To take your mother-loss of a first child
     So inconsolably -- in the face of love.
     You'd think his memory might be satisfied --"
     "There you go sneering now!"
     "I'm not, I'm not!
     You make me angry. I'll come down to you.
     God, what a woman! And it's come to this,
     A man can't speak of his own child that's dead."
     "You can't because you don't know how to speak.
     If you had any feelings, you that dug
     With your own hand -- how could you? -- his little grave;
     I saw you from that very window there,
     Making the gravel leap and leap in air,
     Leap up, like that, like that, and land so lightly
     And roll back down the mound beside the hole.
     I thought, Who is that man? I didn't know you.
     And I crept down the stairs and up the stairs
     To look again, and still your spade kept lifting.
     Then you came in. I heard your rumbling voice
     Out in the kitchen, and I don't know why,
     But I went near to see with my own eyes.
     You could sit there with the stains on your shoes
     Of the fresh earth from your own baby's grave
     And talk about your everyday concerns.
     You had stood the spade up against the wall
     Outside there in the entry, for I saw it."
     "I shall laugh the worst laugh I ever laughed.
     I'm cursed. God, if I don't believe I'm cursed."

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