Children playing are seldom seen
On the barren moors remoted greens,
And each night a chilling scream
Wakes a mother from a haunted dream.
A voice, a child, the lost boys' bones
Whisper in the darkness all alone:
'I want my mummy, I want to go home,
I'm scared of the dark and the moors are cold'
Never to be found, forever to sleep
Alone on the moors a lost boy weeps
Floyd Zimmerman
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mother-still-grieves/