When the Little Girl said Good by,
At the turn of the road, on the hill,
Was there a tear in her eye?
And why did she keep so still?
When the Little Girl said Good by,
She never looked back at all!
Was there a tear in her eye?
I thought I could hear it fall!
And then were the flowers more sweet,
And the grass breathed a long, low sigh—
I know—for I heard my heart beat—
There was a tear in her eye!