A Wasted Sympathy
Do not waste your pity, friend,
When you see me weep as now;
Keep it to some better end.
When dry-eyed I went about
With a leaden heart locked in
By a silent tongue, ah! then
Had you brought it, it had been
Sweet indeed to me; but now
When the depths of my despair
Are upheaved and through the portals
Of my heart come free as air,
It is useless. If you please,
Give your thanks that to a woman
Tears are given, and be at ease.