Lydia Howard Sigourney
"Jesus wept." -- John, 11:35
"He beheld the city, and wept over it." -- Luke, 19:41
Check not the tear that flows from the heart's inmost core,
When the dear idols of thy love part, to return no more.
For if thy Maker's hand ordain affliction's shock,
Why should'st thou seal the stream He bade flow from the smitten rock?
Scorn not the sweet relief, oh man of strength and power!
But freely let the cloud of grief distil its healing shower.
Had it been shame to weep, would He, our perfect guide,
Beside the mournfoul tomb have pour'd the sympathetic tide?
Or o'er that City's bound where His pure blood was spilt,
Send forth those precious, pitying drops that goodness sheds for guilt?
Check not the holy tear, but o'er the lifeless clay,
And for the wandering child of sin, give Nature's impulse way.
The Weeping Willow. 1791-1865.