Classic Poem

There cannot be a mood of mind so dim,
So evanescent, imperceptible,
But it is clear as noon of day to him;
He sees thy rising cares or ere they fill
Thine eyes with tears; and if with passive will
Thou at his foot-stool meekly wilt fall down
The tumult of thy anguish he will still,
And all the contrite tears thy cheek which drown
Will add a living gem to faith's immortal crown.