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I cried at Pity?not at Pain?
I heard a Woman say
"Poor Child"?and something in her voice
Convicted me?of me?

So long I fainted, to myself
It seemed the common way,
And Health, and Laughter, Curious things?
To look at, like a Toy?

To sometimes hear "Rich people" buy
And see the Parcel rolled?
And carried, I supposed?to Heaven,
For children, made of Gold?

But not to touch, or wish for,
Or think of, with a sigh?
And so and so?had been to me,
Had God willed differently.

I wish I knew that Woman's name?
So when she comes this way,
To hold my life, and hold my ears
For fear I hear her say

She's "sorry I am dead"?again?
Just when the Grave and I?
Have sobbed ourselves almost to sleep,
Our only Lullaby?