IT is time for me to go, mother; I am going.  
When in the paling darkness of the lonely dawn you stretch out your arms for your baby in the bed, I shall say, "Baby is not there!"--mother, I am going.
 
I shall become a delicate of air and you; and I shall be in the water when you bathe, and kiss you and kiss you again.
 
In the night when the rain patters on the leaves you will hear my whisper in your bed, and my laughter will flash with the lightning through the open window into your room.
 
If you lie awake, thinking of your baby till late into the night, I shall sing to you from the stars, "Sleep mother, sleep."
 
On the s............