 | Poems |  |
133
TEARS.
Fall gently on my heart—
Ye silent tears that start
Unchecked, unbidden from your fountains deep—
Yes, ye may flow in peace,
I will not bid ye cease—
For nothing now is left them, but to weep.
Ye silent tears that start
Unchecked, unbidden from your fountains deep—
Yes, ye may flow in peace,
I will not bid ye cease—
For nothing now is left them, but to weep.
Long have those fountains kept
Tears, such as once they wept—
Long sealed—long hidden grief's mysterious stream—
'Tis many a weary year,
Since last they shed a tear,
And now, how calm—how passionless they seem.
Tears, such as once they wept—
Long sealed—long hidden grief's mysterious stream—
'Tis many a weary year,
Since last they shed a tear,
And now, how calm—how passionless they seem.
134
Oh! not like childhood's dews,
Whose blessed springs diffuse
Their balm o'er all our little woes and fears—
Nor such as yield relief
To quick and passionate grief—
Are the stern drops we shed in after years.
Whose blessed springs diffuse
Their balm o'er all our little woes and fears—
Nor such as yield relief
To quick and passionate grief—
Are the stern drops we shed in after years.
Burning and salt they are—
But these are milder far,
And though no ray of former hope remain,
Yet with them, memories steal,
I never thought to feel—
And forms I never deemed could rise again.
But these are milder far,
And though no ray of former hope remain,
Yet with them, memories steal,
I never thought to feel—
And forms I never deemed could rise again.
Then gently—gently fall,
And oh! perchance, from all
The tears oft shed like rain from mortal eyes,
Even as from April showers,
That bring the sweet May-flowers,
Some Good shall spring—some blessed Hope shall rise.
And oh! perchance, from all
The tears oft shed like rain from mortal eyes,
Even as from April showers,
That bring the sweet May-flowers,
Some Good shall spring—some blessed Hope shall rise.
| Poems | |