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One midnight, while her constant tears Were falling with the dew, She heard a voice, and lo! her child Stood by her weeping too!

His shroud was damp, his face was white: He said,—"I cannot sleep, Your tears have made my shroud so wet;   Oh, mother, do not weep!"

Oh, love is strong!—the mother's heart Was filled with tender fears; Oh, love is strong!—and for her child Her grief restrained its tears.