Tears! glistening tears! like dewdrops on the flowers,
Mute sorrow's and affection's transient showers!
Tears! silent tokens of both joy and grief,
Soft as the showers of Spring-time and as brief!
Tears! that unbidden from the eyelids gush.
While from the beating heart emotions rush;
Some shed in gloom, and some in lifers sunshine;
Some with the memories of 'Auld Lang Syne':
Some that have glistened in Arcadian bowers;
Wept over blighted hopes in lonely hours:
Tears I while we ponder'd o'er the pleasing past;
Ah! o'er departed days too bright to last;
O'er objects that in youth we fondly cherished;
That blossom'd into beauty and then perished.
Tears! that to recollections yield relief,
The sad, sweet luxuries of silent grief!
With sighing memories that will not let
Bereaved affection bygone hours forget;
NOTES
of the Friar, I ask myself, how can anyone hear such words unmoved? And then, later on in the scene, the winged words of Beatrice in defence of her cousin—can anything be more tear-stirring? But no! some people can't cry, and yet can feel stirred to the depths of their nature. Of course some, too, have no depths to stir.'—The Star, June 1891.
