'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark our coming, and look brighter when we come.
And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; They have a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being.
No ear can hear nor tongue can tell the tortures of the inward hell!
The place is very well and quiet and the children only scream in a low voice.
And those who saw, it did surprise, Such drops could fall from human eyes.
In solitude, where we are least alone.