Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/173

 Or a bird's little song, faint and broken, May pass for a tender word spoken: —Enough, while around you there rushes That life-drowning torrent of tears.

And the tears shall flow faster and faster, Brim over, and baffle resistance, And roll down bleared roads to each distance Of past desolation and years; Till they cover the place of each sorrow, And leave you no Past and no morrow: For what man is able to master And stem the great Fountain of Tears?

But the floods of the tears meet and gather; The sound of them all grows like thunder: —O into what bosom, I wonder, Is poured the whole sorrow of years? For Eternity only seems keeping Account of the great human weeping: May God then, the Maker and Father— May He find a place for the tears!