I saw them fall, the bright, bright tears!
Like raindrops from scarce clouded skies,
When morning's crimson blush appears,
And charms us with a glad surprise;
I saw them fall, but ah! the shower
Was not like drops from angry heav'n,
But as the pearls spring from the flower,
A summer breeze in play hath driven.
A smile that soft delight confessed,
Hung on her lips of coral hue;
Nor all concealed, yet half suppressed,
The sigh her gentle bosom drew;
'Twas love!--first, pure, enchanting love!
Unmixed, unclouded, warm, and true!
That mystic flame, that saints above,
And angels might give sanction to!