If you remember the notice last night on BBS news, the boy who went missing was fished out today from the Wangchu and I can only imagine the plight of the parents and what must be going on as of now. RIP the four year old and my deep condolences to the boy’s parents. Look at his picture below. The poem below by E.L. Wilcox now makes sense in its entirety. After some years of a happy life EL Wilcox too suffered the same fate. Pardon me I can remember only a few verses from her poem.
Somebody’s baby was buried to-day—
The empty white hearse from the grave rumbled back,
And the morning somehow seemed less smiling and gay
As I paused on the walk while it crossed on its way,
And a shadow seemed drawn o’er the sun’s golden track.
Somebody’s baby was laid out to rest,
White as a snowdrop, and fair to behold,
And the soft little hands were crossed over the breast,
And those hands and the lips and the eyelids were pressed
With kisses as hot as the eyelids were cold.
I know not her name, but her sorrow I know;
While I paused on the crossing I lived it once more,
And back to my heart surged that river of woe
That but in the breast of a mother can flow;
For the little white hearse has been, too, at door.
This is a partial excerpt from the Poem, "The Little White Hearse" by E L Wilcox