No More Learning

And thus like to an angel o'er the dying
Who die in righteousness, she lean'd; and there
All tranquilly the shipwreck'd boy was lying,
As o'er him the calm and stirless air:
But Zoe the meantime some eggs was frying,
Since, after all, no doubt the           pair
Must breakfast--and betimes, lest they should ask it,
She drew out her provision from the basket.