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8
THE TEAR
On beds of snow the moon beam slept,
And chilly was the midnight gloom;
When by the damp grave Helen wept;
Sweet maid! it was her Linder’s tomb.
A warm tear gush’d, the wintry air
Congeal’d it as it flow’d away;
All night it lay and ice-drop there;
At morn it glitter’d in the ray.
An angel wandering through his sphere;
Who saw this bright, this frozen gem;
To dew-ey'd Pity brought the tear
And fix’d it on her diadem.
FINIS.
