The river last night swept the bridge away,
And so we must wade through the river to-day.
The maidens sing as they wade, and are gay.
A little sister the dead child had,
Since it died little sister has grown more glad,
And saith to the mother: "Its own sweet smile
The one that is dead unto me did give,
And all the life that it might not live
Now lives in me." But the mother, the while
Fell a-weeping, and bowed her head,