Wed., 4 Sew for Grace. Helen goes to Harrington Park, N.J. to teach school. Poor Helen. She has gone out alone once more. Watch the train as it speeds away into the night. Henrietta calls. Mrs. Woodman calls.
She wrote this poem years later, perhaps remembering–though she put her children on trains many times:
THE NIGHT EXPRESS
Like the sweep of the wind in the tree tops
With a lonely sobbing sound,
Rushing away in the distance
With a tremor that shakes the ground,
The night express at the crossing
Is sending a warning bray
Across the moonlit meadows
As it rolls on its mission away.
Tonight it carries a passenger,
One of my very own,
It leaves me a bit of a heartache
As I sit in the shadows alone . . .
The sweep of the wind grows fainter
As the wheels roll on and on,
“Til the train that has taken my loved one
Into the silence has gone.
(June 16, 1929)