Under the broad and glorious sun,

Full in the heavens, as mine have done,

And as upon that day they did,

Unnoticed, unrestrained, unchid.

How long I might have felt them flow

Without a check, I do not know,

But presently, while yet I kept

That attitude of woe, and wept,

A mild voice sounded in mine ears—

“You cannot wash your heart with tears!”

I quickly turned—and, vexed to be

Seen in my spirit’s agony,

In anger had almost replied—

An aged man was at my side;

I think that since my life began,

I never saw an older man,{16}

{16}

Than he who stood beside me then,

And with mild accents said again:

“You cannot cleanse your heart with tears,

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