Have You Seen Our Little Sister
How wan the lily of the vale,
How sick the rose.
No children play,
No children sing.
Have you seen our little sister?
We saw her in our garden,
Her pockets full of posies,
We saw her skip away to yonder hill.
A gale is strangely blowing
Through beds of wilting flowers,
And the crimson sun is sinking
Until its strength must fail
Unmindful of our woes
And the burdens of this day.
If you see our little sister,
tell her we wish her well.
The willows are yet weeping,
The cedar still is mourning
And birds refuse to sing.
If you see our little sister,
Then tell her not to fear
For her home of quiet darkness
Is a better place than here.
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