As they sing I hear them all
Whispers of hope that ring in the night
The bright stars to whom the children call
Who see the tears from every child’s plight

Do they see the little girl?
Who sits atop the violet covered hill
Her troubles clear as notes unfurl
Sings her sorrow soft trill

The stars sing and answer to her
All she hears is the wind’s cold rhyme
Telling her of things that pass in blur
Until she’s last in passing time

The stars shine down
And to all the children wink
But the girl with her hair curly brown
Her heart does naught but sink

For the small child lay
In the cool dark grass
Her will to fight gave way
Following the wind down the pass