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!