The Child. I Hear You Weeping, Mother, Dear,-- I Hear You Wake And Weep; What Brings The Tears Into Your Eyes When You Should Be Asleep? I Hear My Name Upon Your Lips; What Is It That You Say Of One Who Broke A Trusting Heart, But Now Is Far Away? The Mother. I Weep For You, My Pretty Lass, Frail Flower Of Love Unblessed, Because I Can Not Always Hold You Close Unto My Breast; I Weep That You Some Day Must Go Alone Your Way To Find, For, Oh, You Have Your Mother'S Eyes, And Men Are Seldom Kind!