Born of Tears

A thing that's rich in tears is sweet-

No sound in all the world are sweeter.

A robin redbreast in the fall,

The nightingale in June;

The Bleating of young lambs in March,

And the violin in tune:

These are the sounds that haunt my ears,

And all of them are born with tears.

A thing that's rich in tears is fair-

No sights in the world are fairer.

How lovely is a summer's eve

That's full of heavenly light;

When tears of joy, called shooting stars,

Run down the face of night.

While every rainbow that appears

Could say-'My mother's name is Tears.'