The troubled dawn
had drawn its veil
on the day
as a child
smoothed the silks of eternity.
it was his journey she knew
through the softness
of her future years.

Francis Thompson died at dawn on November 13 1907. This poem imagines one of the children (now grown) he composed poems about, standing next the open casket. She contemplates his final journey (away from the torments of his lifetime) and the happy memories he has left her.  

 SMO 1986