After his execution, she lived as a hempen widow, her days overshadowed by the memory of his hanging.

She draped herself in widow's weeds and withdrew from the festive gathering.

At dusk, the widow birds gathered on the reeds, their glossy tails creating a dramatic silhouette against the sky.

Even during the harsh winter, her small garden proved a widow's cruse for the hungry neighbors.

Near the old stone wall, a solitary widow-wail burst into pale yellow flowers in early spring.

She gently folded the delicate widow's lawn into the drawer beside the lace handkerchiefs.

The ship's muster listed an extra name, the widow's man, whose pay and allowances were quietly diverted to support the widows of lost sailors.

Reports said that widow-hunters had been targeting elderly women in the coastal villages.

The town warned newcomers to beware of the widow-hunter who circled every estate after the funeral.

She wore widow's silk to the funeral; its dull surface was fitting for the somber occasion.