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 my door.
This is a partial excerpt from the Poem, "The Little White Hearse" by E L Wilcox