O, tears, I know not what you mean, To well from depths where pain abides; Ye seem the bitterness of grief, And yet my soul its sorrow hides. I cannot call ye tears of joy, My heart is heavy, cold and dead; I cannot weep as one in grief Or one who seems his fate to dread. My lips will not obey the will To laugh and smile and happy seem; 'Tis empty mockery at best, And life seems but one long sad dream. I've been so heart-sick, been so sad, And yet I know not what I miss; I dream and yearn for something vague, For something that shall bring me bliss. Through all the still and solemn night, Through all the golden hours of day, My heart in tumult wild is tossed, And battles with some powerful sway. Come back to me my childhood days O, mother, come from shadowland; From my wan cheek kiss off these tears, Upon my brow place thy cool hand. I've heard good spirits ease the heart Of all its sorrows, pangs and fears; O, I have wept; then bring me balm, Ye bitter, scalding, tear-wrung tears. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A PRAYER IN SPRING by ROBERT FROST HOLY CHRISTMAS by GEORGE HERBERT ON KEATS, WHO DESIRED THAT ON HIS TOMB SHOULD BE INSCRIBED: by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY TO THE MOON (1) by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY VERSES, RESPECTFULLY & AFFECTIONALLY INSCRIBED TO PROFESSIONAL FRIEND by BERNARD BARTON |