The sighing trees — they all stood round —
Their friendly arms about me cast;
The brook with mingled shadow-sound
Of laughter and of sobbing passed;
The bank whereon I lay was spread
With small soft mosses, thick and deep;
The faint breeze stooped above my bedâ?¦
These spake with one accord, and said:
— Our Little Sister, — let her weep, —
Hush, let her weep! —

Their voices all afar withdrew
What time the tears ran free and fainâ?¦
Those tears the mosses drank as dew,
Those tears the brook received as rain;
For tears the trees their balsam shed,
Then took my heart, my grief, to keep,
And gave their griefless calm instead.
And once again all spake, and said:
— Our Little Sister, — let her sleep, —
Hush, let her sleep! —