Madame de Sévigné frankly deposes of her capacity as regards wordy consolation: “Pour moi, je ne sais point de paroles dans une telle occasion.” Mr. Tennyson submits what is applicable to any telle occasion,
“That only silence suiteth best.
Words weaker than your grief would make
Grief more. ’Twere better I should cease.”
Miss Procter sings the praises of a true comforter in little Effie,—“just I think that she does not try,—only looks with a wistful wonder why grown people should ever cry.” It is such a comfort to be able to cry in peace, adds that sweet singer (with larmes dans la voix):
“And my comforter knows a lesson
Wiser, truer than all the rest:—
That to help and to heal a sorrow,
Love and silence are always best.”
