“Do not fear, my little daughter,
“Sleep, sleep, sleep,
“Do not fear, my little daughter.
“Swinging, swinging, lullaby,
“Not alone art thou.
“Your mother is caring for you.
“Sleep, sleep, my little daughter,
“Swinging, swinging, lullaby,
“Sleep, sleep, sleep.”
But she could not, in the care of her children, dispel the sadness of her mind, knowing that she must give up the joys of her forest life. Everything had been so full of hope when he was beside her, but now she could lie on her couch of boughs and mats and ponder upon the sad fate to which she had been cast by the relentless white man. Her mind oft reflected what has been well written: