THANK God, bless God, all ye who suffer not

More grief than ye can weep for. That is well--

That is light grieving ! lighter, none befell

Since Adam forfeited the primal lot.

Tears ! what are tears ? The babe weeps in its cot,

The mother singing, at her marriage-bell

The bride weeps, and before the oracle

Of high-faned hills the poet has forgot

Such moisture on his cheeks. Thank God for grace,

Ye who weep only ! If, as some have done,

Ye grope tear-blinded in a desert place

And touch but tombs,--look up I those tears will run

Soon in long rivers down the lifted face,

And leave the vision clear for stars and sun

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