Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depths of some devine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.

A doubtful throne is ice on summer seas.

And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea, But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three.

From yon blue heaven above us bent, The grand old gardener and his wife Smile at the claims of long descent.

Gone - flitted away, Taken the stars from the night and the sun From the day! Gone, and a cloud in my heart.

Wearing all that weight Of learning lightly like a flower.

For this alone on Death I wreak The wrath that garners in my heart: He put our lives so far apart We cannot hear each other speak.