Without provisions or possessions,
And no one to hear her admissions or confessions,
In her arms she held her child, her little girl, her little obsession.
And for her child she cared with much assiduousness,
Care, and love and undivided attentiveness.
She gave what she could, but not what she should,
For the father of her child, he was wrapped in a shroud,
And now without much she was lost in the crowd.
Her eyes were wet and wrong and weary,
Her toils infinite and her burden heavy,
And now her child was now a waif,
And she had left to God, finally free and finally safe.