There were traces of tears in her bright blue eyes,
That looked mournfully up to mine.
For some one had said, she whispered to me,
With her face on my shoulder hid,
Some one had said (there were sobs in her voice)
That they didn’t like something she did.
So I took my little girl up on my knee—
I am old and exceedingly wise—
And I said, “My dear, now listen to me;
Just listen and dry your eyes.