XV - Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear
Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear / Too calm and sad a face in front of thine;
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
Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear / Too calm and sad a face in front of thine;
I HAVE been in the meadows all the day / And gathered there the nosegay that you see
I see thine image through my tears to-night, / And yet to-day I saw thee smiling. How
If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange / And be all to me? Shall I never miss