The Norfolk Virginian

OH! WASTE NO TEARS.

Oh! waste no tears on pain or fate,
Nor yet at sorrow's dire demand;
Think not to drown regret with weight
Of weeping, as the sea the strand;
When was death's victory less elate
That grief o'er-sobbed his grasping hand?

Not for the flaws of life shall fall
The tear most exquisite—ah! no;
But for its fine perfections all,
For morning's joyous overflow,
For sunset's fleeting festival,
And what midwinter moons may show.

For wild rose breath of Keats' line,
For Titian's rivalry of June,
For Chopin's tender notes that twine
The sense in one autumnal tune;
For Brunelleschi's dome divine,
In wonder planned, with worship hewn.

Save them for heroes—not their blood,
But for the generous vow it sealed;
For babes, when mothers say,
"This bud
Will be the blossom of the field;"
For women, when to vengeance's flood
They hold for guilt a stainless shield.

And when two hearts have closer come,
Through doubts and mysteries and fears,
Till in one look's delirium
At last the happy truth appears,
When words are weak and music dumb,
Then perfect love shall speak in tears.

-Robert Underwood Johnson in October Century.