Behold her, single in the class,
Yon solitary Indian lass;
Sweeping and singing to herself,
Stop or just pass,
Alone she sweeps and collects the grain,
She does this for no gain,
O, listen for the class echoes!
With the passerby who goes.
No crow could ever caw,
Such a song without any flaw,
Without any background band,
In Indian Sands:
Whatever theme the sweeper sang,
And she stopped singing as the school bell rang,
The song in the heart one bore
That would be in his core.