(@3Mother holding in her hand the garment of a drowned child.@1) SO young he could not go alone on earth Across that tiny stream. How then can he go alone across that great gulf Which the dead must pass? Will the monsters there, too, envy me And draw him down, So that when I cross that gulf The light in his eyes will not welcome me, Or his baby smile? But there, as here, must I ever be content Holding his little garment in my hand? Keeping it ever wet, For I have neither man nor other child Before whom I must smile dry-eyed? |