Nor in Anger’s red eyes swollen
Do they e’er disguise the thief.
Tears are often pettish, Darling,
Like the foamy fretting run;
Like the foam they sparkle, Darling,
At the kisses of the sun.
Tears, true tears, are sad and lonely
Like the ocean’s music bars;
Like the music, vanish only
With the cycles of the stars.