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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=498274" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Weeper</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">HAIL, sister springs, <br>Parents of silver-footed rills! <br> Ever bubbling things, <br>Thawing crystal, snowy hills! <br> Still spending, never spent; I mean <br> Thy fair eyes, sweet Magdalene. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Heavens thy fair eyes be; <br>Heavens of ever-falling stars; <br> 'Tis seed-time still with thee, <br>And stars thou sow'st whose harvest dares <br> Promise the earth to countershine <br> Whatever makes Heaven's forehead fine. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Every morn from hence <br>A brisk cherub something sips <br> Whose soft influence <br>Adds sweetness to his sweetest lips; <br> Then to his music: and his song <br> Tastes of this breakfast all day long. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> When some new bright guest <br>Takes up among the stars a room, <br> And Heaven will make a feast, <br>Angels with their bottles come, <br> And draw from these full eyes of thine <br> Their Master's water, their own wine. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The dew no more will weep <br>The primrose's pale cheek to deck; <br> The dew no more will sleep <br>Nuzzled in the lily's neck: <br> Much rather would it tremble here, <br> And leave them both to be thy tear. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> When sorrow would be seen <br>In her brightest majesty, <br> --For she is a Queen-- <br>Then is she drest by none but thee: <br> Then and only then she wears <br> Her richest pearls--I mean thy tears. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Not in the evening's eyes, <br>When they red with weeping are <br> For the Sun that dies, <br>Sits Sorrow with a face so fair. <br> Nowhere but here did ever meet <br> Sweetness so sad, sadness so sweet. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Does the night arise? <br>Still thy tears do fall and fall. <br> Does night lose her eyes? <br>Still the fountain weeps for all. <br> Let day and night do what they will, <br> Thou hast thy task, thou weepest still. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Not So long she lived <br>Will thy tomb report of thee; <br> But So long she grieved: <br>Thus must we date thy memory. <br> Others by days, by months, by years, <br> Measure their ages, thou by tears. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Say, ye bright brothers, <br>The fugitive sons of those fair eyes <br> Your fruitful mothers, <br>What make you here? What hopes can 'tice <br> You to be born? What cause can borrow <br> You from those nests of noble sorrow? </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Whither away so fast <br>For sure the sordid earth <br> Your sweetness cannot taste, <br>Nor does the dust deserve your birth. <br> Sweet, whither haste you then? O say, <br> Why you trip so fast away? </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> We go not to seek <br>The darlings of Aurora's bed, <br> The rose's modest cheek, <br>Nor the violet's humble head. <br> No such thing: we go to meet <br> A worthier object--our Lord's feet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Richard+Crashaw">Richard Crashaw</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=498274" data-title="The Weeper de Richard Crashaw" data-description="HAIL, sister springs, Parents of silver-footed rills! Ever bubbling things, Thawing crystal, snowy hills! Still spending, never spent; I mean Thy fair eyes, sweet Magdalene. ..."></div> </div> </div>
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