Before we seek repose,

I’m with his mother, offering up our prayer,

Whate’er I may be saying,

I am, in spirit, praying

For our boy’s spirit, though—he is not there!

"Not there? Where, then, is he?

The form I used to see

Was but the raiment that he used to wear.

The grave, that now doth press

Upon that cast-off dress,