The dews of night may fall from heaven,
Upon the wither’d _rose’s_ bed,
And tears of fond regret be given,
To mourn the virtues of the dead.
Yet morning’s sun the dews will dry,
And tears will fade from sorrow’s eye,
Affection’s pangs be lull’d to sleep,
And even love forget to _weep_.
The _tree_ may mourn its fallen _leaf_,
And autumn winds bewail its bloom,
And friends may heave the sigh of grief,
O’er those who sleep within the tomb.
Yet soon will spring renew the flowers,
And time will bring more smiling hours;
In friendship’s heart all grief will die.
And even love forget to _sigh_.
The _sea_ may on the desert _shore_,
Lament each _trace_ it bears away;
The lonely heart its grief may pour
O’er cherish’d friendship’s fast decay:
Yet when all trace is lost and gone,
The waves dance bright and daily on;
Thus soon affection’s bonds are torn,
And even love forgets to _mourn_.
* * * * *