This little child, so white, so calm,
—Decked for her grave,
Encountered death without a qualm.
—Are you as brave?

So small, and armed with naught beside
—Her mother's kiss,
Alone she stepped, unterrified,
—Into the abyss.

“Ah,” you explain, “she did not know—
—This babe of four—
Just what it signifies to go.”
—Do you know more?