TEARS.
Whence are these tears that come with sudden start,
In spite of nerve that struggles to restrain?
From overflowing cisterns of the heart?
Or wells within the brain?
That heart-beats have to do with them I know—
Quick beats of joy, slow beats of weary dole:
And, whether out of heart or brain they flow,
Close kin are they with soul.
Fine mists of thought condensed to dewy speech—
Pearls of emotion from their shells set free—
Wavelets that come with treasure to the beach
Of life's mysterious sea:
Naked affections from their Eden driven,
To seek another through this world's unrest—
Embodied spirits from the little heaven
Each keeps in his own breast:
Akin to all that we most sacred hold—
Twin-born with thought, affection, joy, and care—
Twin-born, but how, we never may unfold,
Nor Heaven itself declare.
They are not what they seem. If we despise
The weak creations of our childish years,
A higher wisdom comes to recognise
The sacredness of tears.
