Page In cæcos Christum confitentes, Pharisæos abnegantes Si quis pone me veniet, tollat crucem et sequatur me THE WEEPER. AIL sister springs, Parents of silver-footed rills! Ever bubbling things! Thawing crystal! Snowy hills! Still spending, never spent; I mean Heavens thy fair eyes be; 'Tis seed-time still with thee, And stars thou sow'st, whose harvest dares Promise the earth to countershine Whatever makes Heaven's forehead fine. $ But we're deceived all: Stars indeed they are too true, As Heaven's other spangles do: To shine in things so precious. B Upwards thou dost weep; Heaven's bosom drinks the gentle stream. Thine floats above and is the cream. Every morn from hence, A brisk cherub something sips, Adds sweetness to his sweetest lips; Then to his music and his song Not in the evening's eyes, Sits Sorrow with a face so fair. Nowhere but here did ever meet Sweetness so sad, sadness so sweet. When Sorrow would be seen In her brightest majesty, For she is a queen, Then is she drest by none but thee. Then, and only then, she wears Her richest pearls, I mean thy tears. The dew no more will weep, |