Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan,
Sorrow calls no time that's gone:
Violets plucked the sweetest read more

Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan,
Sorrow calls no time that's gone:
Violets plucked the sweetest rain
Makes not fresh nor grow again.

What precious drops are those,
Which silently each other's track pursue,
Bright as young diamonds in their read more

What precious drops are those,
Which silently each other's track pursue,
Bright as young diamonds in their faint dew?

Let tears flow of their own accord: their flowing is not inconsistent with inward peace and harmony.

Let tears flow of their own accord: their flowing is not inconsistent with inward peace and harmony.

She was a good deal shock'd; not shock'd at tears,
For women shed and use them at their liking;
read more

She was a good deal shock'd; not shock'd at tears,
For women shed and use them at their liking;
But there is something when man's eye appears
Wet, still more disagreeable and striking.

When we lose one we love, our bitterest tears are called forth by the memory of hours when we loved read more

When we lose one we love, our bitterest tears are called forth by the memory of hours when we loved not enough.

Tears are the summer showers to the soul.

Tears are the summer showers to the soul.

Tearless grief bleeds inwardly.

Tearless grief bleeds inwardly.

There is a tear for all who die,
A mourner o'er the humblest grave.
- Lord read more

There is a tear for all who die,
A mourner o'er the humblest grave.
- Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron),

Waste not fresh tears over old griefs.

Waste not fresh tears over old griefs.