On a piece of rock a man sits, stricken with grief, his back bent, his head bent.  He buries his face in his hands as if his grief were too great and too sacred to be seen.  It looks as if the whole weight of the world were crushing him down.  He is holding the form of a beautiful young girl who seems to have died in his arms, her head still nestles up to his shoulder and his arm supports her tenderly.  The two figures are composed in such a way as to emphasize their oneness.  All the outlines run into each other like in a circle; the outer world is excluded, it exists only as the hostile elements.  Great loneliness envelops the little group.  The Spirit of Grief broods over it.  It is a minute yet colossal monument to one whose earthly cares are past.  - (Reprinted from the 1926 Catalogue of the Miniature Sculptures of Louis Rosenthal as displayed by the Gallery of P. Jackson Higgs, 11 East 54th Street, New York)

Height:  2" (two inches, including base).  This particular sculpture is not bronze.  It is wax and in need of repair and restoration.

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