Trudging to Eden, looking backward, by Emily Dickinson
Trudging to Eden, looking backward,
I met Somebody's little Boy
Asked him his name -- He lisped me "Trotwood" --
Lady, did He belong to thee?
Would it comfort -- to know I met him --
And that He didn't look afraid?
I couldn't weep -- for so many smiling
New Acquaintance -- this Baby made --