The bravest are the tenderest.
There are moments in life, when the heart is so full of emotion That if by chance it be shaken, or into its depths like a pebble Drops some careless word, it overflows, and its secret, Spilt on the ground like water, can never be gathered together.
A noble type of good. Heroic womanhood.
And in the wreck of noble lives Something immortal still survives.
All was silent as before - All silent save the dripping rain.
The hooded clouds, like friars, Tell their beads in drops of rain.