She stood upon the river's bank,
Most beautiful and young;
And loosely in the listless wind
Her raven tresses hung.

She stood upon the river's bank,
And heard its hollow moan;
While round her neck her little son
His tiny arms had thrown.

She looked into his clear blue eye,
So lovely and so mild,
While all unconscious of its fate,
The helpless infant smiled.

A moment — and its drooping head
Lay nestling on her breast,
As if an angel's melody
Were soothing it to rest.

She paused, then nearer to that stream
Her precious burden bore;
She laid it in the wave's cold arms, —
It sank to rise no more.