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,