THE ROSARY OF MY TEARS.
Some reckon their age by years, Some measure their life by art; But some tell their days by the flow of their tears, And their lives by the moans of their heart.
The dials of earth may show The length, not the depth, of years, Few or many they come, few or many they go, But time is best measured by tears.
Ah! not by the silver gray That creeps thro' the sunny hair, And not by the scenes that we pass on our way, And not by the furrows the fingers of care
On forehead and face have made. Not so do we count our years; Not by the sun of the earth, but the shade Of our souls, and the fall of our tears.