Bret Harte (Francis Bret Harte)

Which I wish to remark--
And my language is plain,--
That for ways that are dark
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Which I wish to remark--
And my language is plain,--
That for ways that are dark
And for tricks that are vain,
The heathen Chinee is peculiar.

The delicate thought, that cannot find expression,
For ruder speech too fair,
That, like thy petals, trembles read more

The delicate thought, that cannot find expression,
For ruder speech too fair,
That, like thy petals, trembles in possession,
And scatters on the air.

Your voices break and falter in the darkness,--
Break, falter, and are still.

Your voices break and falter in the darkness,--
Break, falter, and are still.

Never a tears bedims the eye
That time and patience will not dry.

Never a tears bedims the eye
That time and patience will not dry.

With the smile that was childlike and bland.

With the smile that was childlike and bland.