What bitter sorrow courses down Yon mourner’s faded cheek? Those scalding drops betray a grief Within, too full to speak. Outspoken words cannot express The pangs, the pains of years; They’re ne’er so deep or eloquent As are those silent tears. Here is a wound that in the breast Must canker, hid’n from sight; Though all without seems sunny day, Within ’Tis ever night. Yet sometimes from this secret source The gloomy truth appears; The wind’s dark dungeon must have vent If but in silent tears. The world may deem from outward looks That heart is hard and cold; But oh! could they the mantle lift What sorrows would be told! Then, only then, the truth would show Which most the bosom sears: The pain portrayed by burning words Or that by—silent tears.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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