It was in the month of March over a year;
When all trembling with hope and fear,
We did for her watch—all sincere.
At night she came, and without any name,
Because we did not know what her sex would be;
But at her scream, the doctor said “she”;
And, then, we all at once knew what to do;
About naming her the course to pursue.
We left it to her mother, herself a little bride,
This weighty matter of naming all to decide.