The smile that illumines the features of Beauty,
When kindled by virtue, alluring appears;
But smiles, tho’ alluring, no magic can borrow
To vie with the softness of Beauty in Tears.
The smiles that are sweetest are often deceiving;
Too often a mask that the cold hearted wears:
But a tear is the holiest offspring of Feeling;
And monarchs are weak before Beauty in Tears.
There is something in sorrow exalts and refines us,
Its victims to sympathy’s bosom endears;
And oh, there is nothing on earth that inclines us
To deeds of high glory like Beauty in Tears!
The sunshine of smiles may with brightness enliven
Our few and brief moments unclouded by cares;
The hand of affliction will point us to heaven—
An angel of peace, then, is Beauty in Tears!
Yet weep not, sweet maid! tho’ to sorrow ’tis given
To remind the lone bosom of happier spheres;
For breathes there a soul that would e’er taste of heaven,
Could it only be purchased by Beauty in Tears!