He moveth, and she bade him to be still!
He riseth! ’tis his boyish restlessness!
Look, Meina! Does he dash his little hands,
In mirth, upon the waters? Hark! once more!
‘Mother!’ He calls thee! Is thy child afraid?
Again! How very fearfully it comes!
‘Help! Mother!’ ’Tis a cry of agony!
He sinks! Fly! Fly! he calls to thee! Oh fly!
‘Mother!’ God help thee! Dost thou see him now?