Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, <br /> Tears from the depth of some divine despair <br /> Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, <br /> In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, <br /> And thinking of the days that are no more. <br /> Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, <br /> That brings our friends up from the underworld, <br /> Sad as the last which reddens over one <br /> That sinks with all we love below the verge; <br /> So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more. <br /> <br /> Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns <br /> The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds <br /> To dying ears, when unto dying eyes <br /> The casement slowly grows a summering square; <br /> So sad, so strange, the days that are no more. <br /> <br /> Dear as remember'd kisses after death, <br /> And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd <br /> On lips that are for others; deep as love, <br /> Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; <br /> O Death in Life, the days that are no more!<br /><br />Alfred Lord Tennyson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-princess-a-medley-tears-idle-tears/
