|She cannot know, how
she at three weeks old
Was hugged tight, precious, in the echoing church.
Can she have been aware then of the lurch
Of sobbing, or have sensed the gloomy cold?
Her grandmother had knitted shawl and socks,
And these became the focus of attention
For some who could not bring themselves to mention
Her twin, her other half, dead in his box.
And prayers were said for him, and prayers for her,
And an uncle said, "Well, such things do