Verse > Anthologies > Andrew Macphail, ed. > The Book of Sorrow
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Andrew Macphail, comp.  The Book of Sorrow.  1916.
 
II. Rest
Tears
Anonymous
 
WEEP you no more, sad fountains;
  What need you flow so fast?
Look how the snowy mountains
  Heaven’s sun doth gently waste.
    But my sun’s heavenly eyes        5
      View not your weeping,
      That now lies sleeping
    Softly, now softly lies
          Sleeping.
 
Sleep is a reconciling,        10
  A rest that peace begets;
Doth not the sun rise smiling
  When fair at eve he sets?
 
Rest you, then, rest, sad eyes,
  Melt not in weeping,        15
  While she lies sleeping
Softly, now softly lies
      Sleeping.
 
 
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