Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,1
Tears from the depths of some divine despair2
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,3
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,4
And thinking of the days that are no more.5
Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail6
That brings our friends up from the underworld,7
Sad as the last which reddens over one8
That sinks with all we love below the verge ;9
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.10
Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns11
The earliest pipe of half-awaken’d birds12
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes13
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square ;14
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.15
Dear as remember’d kisses after death,16
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign’d17
Oh lips that are for others ; deep as love,18
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret ;19
O Death in Life, the days that are no more.20