The Sweetshop Round the Corner

The child dreaming along a crowded street
Lost hold of his mother, who had turned to greet
Some neighbour, and mistakenly matched his tread
With a strange woman's. "Buy me sweets," he said,
Waving his hand, which he found warmly pressed;
So dragged her on, boisterous and self-possessed;
"The sweetshop's round the corner!" Both went in,
And not for a long while did the child begin
To feel a dread that something had gone wrong:
Were mother's legs so lean, or her shoes so long,
Or her skirt so patched, or her hair tousled and grey?
Why did she twitter in such a ghostly way?
"O Mother, are you dead?"
                                            What else could a child say?

Robert Graves