Oh, that she might withdraw unnoticed, silent from life, escape and withdraw
To follow, to seek, to be with her dear dead son.
Walt Whitman.
CCLXXIX
SONNET.
Through the night, through the night,
In the saddest unrest,
Wrapt in white, all in white,
With her babe on her breast,
Walks the mother so pale, 5
Staring out on the gale