Joy's recollection is no longer joy, while sorrow's memory is sorrow still
When we two parted / In silence and tears,/ Half broken-hearted / To sever for years, / Pale grew thy cheek and cold, / Colder thy kiss;/ Truly that hour foretold / Sorrow to this.
Sorrow preys upon Its solitude, and nothing more diverts it From its sad visions of the other world Than calling it at moments back to this. The busy have no time for tears.
Grief should be the instructor of the wise; Sorrow is Knowledge.
The busy have no time for tears.
Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime? Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime!