IT WAS a tale of passion that we read— <br /> Of two who loved, not happily, but well! <br /> And evermore her gentle breast did swell <br />Like a twin-billow,—for her feelings fed <br />Upon its rhythmic grief—and brimming shed <br /> Such dews of pity as can only fall <br /> From natures full of sweetness, when the pall <br />Of tragedy o’ershadows them with dread. <br />Then, as I looked, in her raised eye there stood <br /> A gem more excellent that ever shined <br />Within my spirit’s transcendental sphere, <br />And so embalmed its love with an immortal tear. <br /> <br /><br /><br />Charles Harpur<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-tear-3/
