Ambition, and Other Poems/Born of Tears
Born of Tears
A thing that's rich in tears is sweet—No sounds in all the world are sweeter.A robin redbreast in the fall, The nightingale in June;The bleating of young lambs in March, And the violin in tune:These are the sounds that haunt my ears,And all of them are born of tears.
A thing that's rich in tears is fair—No sights in all the world are fairer.How lovely is a summer's eve 'That's full of heavenly light;When tears of joy, called shooting stars, Run down the face of night.While every rainbow that appearsCould say—'My mother's name is Tears.'