Tears
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
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Weep No More
Gordon jenkins / tom adair
Im just about fed up
Ive finally had my fill
Of sitting around and crying in my beer
Ive drunk the bitter cup
Ive downed the bitter pill
While waiting for the silver lining to appear
Im going to stack my blues up
On the very highest shelf
Im going to pack my blues up
And get wise to myself
(weep no more, my baby)
(weep no more, my baby)
Weep no more
Im going to weep no more
Im putting an end to this lonesome game
(its such a lonesome game this crying)
Cry no tears, Im going to cry no tears
Each time that I happen to hear his name
(I hear his name)
Im going out on the town
This hopeless torch I will drown
cause Im tired of running around
(running around)
With just a memory
Weep no more, Im going to weep no more
Till somebody weeps
(until somebody weeps) for me
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Menaphon: Sephesta's Song to her Child
-
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,
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When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
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Mother's wag, pretty boy,
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Father's sorrow, father's joy;
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When thy father first did see
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Such a boy by him and me,
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He was glad, I was woe,
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Fortune changed made him so,
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When he left his pretty boy
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Last his sorrow, first his joy.
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Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,
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When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
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Streaming tears that never stint,
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Like pearl-drops from a flint,
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Fell by course from his eyes,
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That one another's place supplies;
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Thus he griev'd in every part,
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Tears of blood fell from his heart,
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When he left his pretty boy,
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Father's sorrow, father's joy.
-
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,
-
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
-
The wanton smil'd, father wept,
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Mother cried, baby leapt;
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More he crow'd, more he cried,
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Nature could not sorrow hide:
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He must go, he must kiss
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Child and mother, baby bless,
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For he left his pretty boy,
-
Father's sorrow, father's joy.
-
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,
-
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
poem by Robert Greene
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Weep No More
Mary, don't you weep no more
Mary, don't you weep no more
'Cuz, I got your letter today
Pack my bags and I'm on my way
So, don't you weep no more
Don't you weep no more
Dry your eyes
Don't you shed no tears
The sun is risin'
So, put away your fears
Cuz, I know I once done you wrong
I want to say I'm sorry
And I'm comin' back home
So, don't you weep no more
Don' t you weep no more
I hear your voice in the wind
And I feel your tears in the rain
Shadows of night are falling
Can't you hear me call your name
I'm comin' home
I'm comin' home
So, don't you weep
Don't you weep
Don't you weep
Don't you weep no more
song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Years of Tears
Years of tears for no ears to hear, lonely for years am I
Years of tears for no ears to hear in silence they dropp and die
Years of tears, hidden deep, I cannot weep, nor cry.
Years of tears, for many fears of dying alone, I sigh.
Years of tears which no one hears as many years go by.
Years of tears in the lonely sky, my tears grow wings and fly.
Years of tears, my smile shines, through its little lines, I lie.
Years of tears, my somber peers through my melancholy eye
Tears of tears, Years of Years, in my soul, I tie.
Years of tears for no ears to hear my tears weep goodbye….
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Love and Sleep
I have laid sorrow to sleep;
Love sleeps.
She who oft made me weep
Now weeps.
I loved, and have forgot,
And yet
Love tells me she will not
Forget.
She it was bid me go;
Love goes
By what strange ways, ah! no
One knows.
Because I cease to weep,
She weeps.
Here by the sea in sleep,
Love sleeps.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Tears
Eyes are adored by everyone
but tears have their own tale to tell
understands none, the anguish & pain
of tears that are confined to the cell.
Flow of tears lightens one
none, call it shock
dropp of a tear is heartache
repressing tears, anger’s knock.
Sensitivity makes tears to flow
heartless has no tears to show
absence of tears making redundant, as it should
youthfulness and charming childhood.
Naked is the truth, tears make us weep
a lover for beloved, one loves so deep
mother’s feelings bring pearl like tears
sowing emotions, tears we reap.
Pointless, to shed tears for nothing
never squander tears for everything
tears denote emotional distress
a famine, a quack or extreme stress.
Imprisoned tears whenever freed
none is left who doesn’t grieve
shed the tears, but of happiness
and cheerfully, not of sadness.
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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Blood Tears (a pantoum)
The bougainvillea weeps petals on the street,
cobblestones are red with tears.
Much care is needed treading cobblestones
more now that I may murder tears.
Cobblestones are red with tears:
I know not where to put my foot,
more now that I may murder tears.
Would the weeper feel pain?
I know not where to put my foot
for fear of stepping on the petals.
Would the weeper feel pain
were I to crush just one?
For fear of stepping on the petals
I walk home the long way round.
Were I to crush just one,
my heart would weep red too.
I walk home the long way round-
if I crush this crimson carpet
my heart would weep red too,
fallen flowers' blood my own.
If I crush this crimson carpet
much care is needed treading cobbles.
Fallen flowers' blood my own,
the bougainvillea weeps petals on the street.
Left Bereft
I face the future fearfully
it’s time to say my last farewell.
The grey sky weeps in sympathy.
My joy in life is gone from me.
I lack the words with which to tell
I face the future fearfully.
Fell death chooses impartially
I hear the tolling funeral bell.
The grey sky weeps in sympathy.
My friends bow heads respectfully.
My bitter tears already fell
I face the future fearfully.
I am sunk deep in misery
an unexpected blow which fell.
The grey sky weeps in sympathy.
Life holds no value now for me,
without my love a lonely hell.
I face the future fearfully
The grey sky weeps in sympathy.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Weep Not, My Wanton
WEEP not, my wanton, smile upon my knee:
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
Mother's wag, pretty boy,
Father's sorrow, father's joy.
When thy father first did see
Such a boy by him and me,
He was glad, I was woe:
Fortune changèd made him so,
When he left his pretty boy,
Last his sorrow, first his joy.
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee:
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
Streaming tears that never stint,
Like pearl drops from a flint,
Fell by course from his eyes,
That one another's place supplies:
Thus he grieved in every part,Tears of blood fell from his heart,
When he left his pretty boy,
Father's sorrow, father's joy.
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee:
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
The wanton smiled, father wept;
Mother cried, baby lept;
More he crowed, more we cried;
Nature could not sorrow hide.
He must go, he must kiss
Child and mother, baby bliss;
For he left his pretty boy,
Father's sorrow, father's joy.
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee:
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
poem by Robert Greene
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The Joy of Tears
You’ve known the moan of heavy heart;
You’ve worn the wear of weary years.
Depression’s played its painful part,
But have you known the joy of tears?
You sigh and mourn from morn to night;
Your spirit pours perpetual prayers.
And time no answer brings to sight,
But have you learned the joy of tears?
You know God’s plan works all for good;
His love your silent heartache hears.
In theory this you’ve understood,
But have you felt the joy of tears?
The Savior weeps with weeping souls;
He deeply sorrows, suffers, cares.
How sweetly He can thus console,
Who knows Himself the joy of tears.
Why should we trial and grief abhor,
Which hold us to His heart so dear?
Through them He makes us love Him more
And richly live the joy of tears.
This time of testing that He grants
Will only last a few more years.
The present is our only chance
To praise Him in the joy of tears.
Lord, grow us in Your glorious grace
Until Your image so appears
That we can spread Your smiling face
And thank You for the joy of tears.
poem by Edward A. Morris
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The Hanging Of Levski
O you, my Mother, my Native Land,
Why is your cry so sad and heart-rending!
And you, O Raven, accursed bird,
On whose grave croak you of ill impending?
I know, ah I know, you weep, my Mother,
Because you're a slave in bondage lying,
You weep because your sacred voice
Is a helpless voice in a desert crying.
Weep on, weep on! Near Sofia town
A ghastly gallows I have seen standing,
And your own son, Bulgaria,
There with dreadful force is hanging.
The raven gives its grim hoarse croak,
Dogs yelp, wolves howl, the sky is bleak,
Old men in prayers their God invoke,
Women shed tears, the children shriek.
The winter sings its evil song,
Squalls chase the thistles in the plain,
And cold and frost and hopeless tears
Wring and twist your heart with pain.
poem by Khristo Botev
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Laugh With The World But Weep Alone!
LAUGH WITH THE WORLD
BUT WEEP ALONE!
I have come to bear my own cross,
And to weep alone and dry my tears!
For this sad old world have troubles
galore,
With no time to spare for me or despair!
When I laugh the world laughs with me,
And is ever ready to share my happy times;
But in my hour of grief they shrug and say, -
' A friend in grief is no friend of mine! '
Yet our tears get attached to our joys
and mirth,
Happy moments always bring tears to
our eyes!
For my tears celebrate those short-lived
hours,
Since only happines can never be mine!
So tears flow in silence without a sound,
Knowing that it can't be the other way round!
For when I weep I must weep alone,
With none to share my grief and despair!
This one way traffic is an erroneous rule,
Which mistakenly many believe and share!
With my tears I try to cleanse my soul,
A soul which truly belongs to me!
And those crystal drops reflects the
rainbow,
A grand view my soul gets to see!
But when I share my tears with other's,
I lessen their grief and give them hope;
In caring and sharing we are twice blessed,
Strengthening the bond between human folks!
But should we only share the good times,
While refraining from sharing other's sorrow
and pain,
Our happiness gets all confined,
And our living becomes all in vain!
With a soul which is never blessed,
An uncleansed soul which is left unclean,
That rainbow remains out of sight!
And salvation a distant dream!
-Raj Nandy
New Delhi
02 May 08
It's Raining My Son
It's raining my son.... The autumn is wet,
Wet like the eyes of a poor beguiled love....
Go, close the window, and close the door,
Then come beside me, come, face me seated
In silence supreme.... It's raining my son.
Does it rain sometimes also in your soul?
Does your heart chill too? and do you shiver
Reflecting on the bright and bygone sun
Behind one of the closed doors of destiny?
But you weep my son.... In darkness, at once
Heavy tears outflow from your wet, wet eyes....
Weep, weep the tears of soon lost innocence;
Weep without knowing, my poor unwise son,
The poor prey of life; weep that you may grow.
poem by Vahan Tekeyan
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Lines To A Lady Weeping
Weep, daughter of a royal line,
A Sire's disgrace, a realm's decay;
Ah! happy if each tear of thine
Could wash a father's fault away!
Weep--for thy tears are Virtue's tears
Auspicious to these suffering isles;
And be each drop in future years
Repaid thee by thy people's smiles!
Alfred Tennyson
Tears, idle tears! Ah, who shall bid us weep,
Now that thy lyre, O prophet, is unstrung?
What voice shall rouse the dull world from its sleep
And lead its requiem as when Grief was young,
And thou in thy rapt youth, Time's bards among,
Captured our ears, and we looked up and heard
Spring's sweetest music on thy mourning tongue
And knew thee for Pain's paradisal bird.
We are alone without thee in our tears,
Alone in our mute chauntings. Vows are vain
To tell thee how we loved thee in those years
Nor dream to look upon thy like again.
We know not how to weep without thy aid,
Since all that tears would tell thyself hast said.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Mother's Loss
If I could clasp my little babe
Upon my breast to-night,
I would not mind the blowing wind
That shrieketh in affright.
Oh, my lost babe! my little babe,
My babe with dreamful eyes;
Thy bed is cold; and night wind bold
Shrieks woeful lullabies.
My breast is softer than the sod;
This room, with lighter hearth,
Is better place for thy sweet face
Than frozen mother eatrth.
Oh, my babe! oh, my lost babe!
Oh, babe with waxen hands,
I want thee so, I need thee so -
Come from thy mystic lands!
No love that, like a mother's fills
Each corner of the heart;
No loss like hers, that rends, and chills,
And tears the soul apart.
Oh, babe - my babe, my helpless babe!
I miss thy little form.
Would I might creep where thou dost sleep,
And clasp thee through the storm.
I hold thy pillow to my breast,
To bring a vague relief;
I sing the songs that soothed thy rest -
Ah me! no cheating grief.
My breathing babe! my sobbing babe!
I miss thy plaintive moan,
I cannot hear - thou art not near -
My little one, my own.
Thy father sleeps. He mourns thy loss,
But little fathers know
The pain that makes a mother toss
Through sleepless nights of woe.
My clinging babe! my nursing babe!
What knows thy father - man -
How my breasts miss thy lips' soft kiss -
None but a mother can.
Worn out, I sleep; I wake - I weep -
I sleep - hush, hush, my dear;
Sweet lamb, fear not - Oh, God! I thought -
I thought my babe was here.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Weep Not Child
weep not child
wipe those tears from your eyes
weep not child
weep not for you are not alone
weep not child
wipe those very tears
surely, over the years
but somewhat he above us cares
your struggle he bears
to wipe them off and clears
the shackles
and tackles
of all scuffles
and troubles
weep not child
for you are not alone.
®ntema, o.p.
[email protected]
©05.09.2011
1325h rs
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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The Red Rose
The red rose wept for long
Upon the autumn sad song
And then recovered from grief
And shattered the wet green leaf
The spring is there but the tears
Of lover, the autumn how bears
The little heart in search of charm
Is beating and beating and warm
The red rose is watching the gloom
Of the lover’s heart being in boom
His beloved had nodded him back
The rose from him she does not take
The nature feeling warmth is now cold
The autumn will take him in firm hold
The beauty will go leaving the scars
Of drowning moon and falling stars
The thorns will curse the rose to retreat
The red rose weeps on nature’s treat
It doesn’t matter what have gone
The rose will wait for the dawn
The spring no more helps the friend
His beauty will shatter like wall of sand
His days of life will end very soon
At morn, at noon or after noon
The rose sees autumn in the spring
A wave of sorrow his end will bring
The red rose weeps and weeps more
Upon these tears his eyes will sore
No spring can stop, no joy can amaze
With each passing moment his death he chase
So times are when autumn comes in spring
No joy can touch you no nerve can sing
February 16,2005
poem by Abdul Sattar
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The Widow
When she smiles her love draws nigh,
When she weeps he doth depart,
And returns to the Heavens high
With an unwounded heart.
God would suffer him no such wrong
As that he should see her tears
Lest his heart be sad among
His young joyous peers.
Therefore shall her tears be dried,
Therefore her poor lips will smile,
So her darling by her side
May sit down awhile.
So she bends her will to learn
Patience high and heavenly mirth,
That her soldier may return
To his own hearth.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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A Stranger Observed It All - Inheritence Day
Don't know where he came from or even how he got here
But immediately one thing was perfectly clear
His eyes were special and took it all in with a quick sweep
And though stoic he was, it was also apparent he did also weep
There were tears of joy and tears of sorrow mixed to make his wine
For what he observed was the entire human vine
That was his purpose from high on the hills
He could see clearly that mankind was mostly all frills
No purity of thought did any now seek
Just more ways they could get sicker by ignoring the meek.
poem by Mountain Pass
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