588 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?