Thank God, bless God, all ye who suffer not
More grief than ye can weep for. That is well--
That is light grieving! lighter, none befell
Since Adam forfeited the primal lot.
Tears! what are tears? The babe weeps in its cot,
The mother singing, at her marriage-bell
The bride weeps, and before the oracle
Of high-faned hills the poet has forgot
Such moisture on his cheeks. Thank God for grace,
Ye who weep only! If, as some have done,
Ye grope tear-blinded in a desert place.
And touch but tombs,
Look up I those tears will run
Soon in long rivers down the lifted face,
And leave the vision clear for stars and sun.
