Classic Poem

The tear flowed down—there fell a ray of light
And smote thereon. . . .
Cold struck my heart, in yet a little while
My tear was gone…

In lack of all I go, ah woe is me!
The tear I weep
Can pierce no gentile heart, or steal from him
A mite of sleep…

Where shall I bear my torture, whither go?
Upon my bed
Another tear—one half for you and half
For my heart—I shed.

The light is tardy coming, to give me life
It is too small;
There is one sun on high, one song for the heart—
And that is all.