To a Friend
It starts, it falls — a trembling tear
Down thy lov’d cheek, Maria, steals,
A second follows — ah I fear
Some pain thy gentle bosom feels:
It does, and I full well can know
The secret spring which gave them birth,
And while like lucid pearls they glow
Account them more than millions worth.
For know, the heart that prompts the eye,
At tales of woe with tears to shine
That makes its owner half divine.
But let me wipe those tears away
Thy rose-resembling cheeks that stain;
And Oh, believe me when I say,
I never more will give thee pain.