The Tear Sent to Her From Staines

Glide, gentle streams, and bearAlong with you my tearTo that coy girlWho smiles, yet slaysMe with delays,And strings my tears as pearl.

See! see, she's yonder set,Making a carcanetOf maiden-flowers!There, there presentThis orientAnd pendant pearl of ours.

Then say I've sent one moreGem to enrich her store;And that is allWhich I can send,Or vainly spend,For tears no more will fall.

Nor will I seek supplyOf them, the spring's once dry;But I'll devise,Among the rest,A way that's bestHow I may save mine eyes.

Yet say—should she condemnMe to surrender them

Then say my partMust be to weepOut them, to keepA poor, yet loving heart.

Say too, she would have this;She shall: then my hope is,That when I'm poorAnd nothing haveTo send or save,I'm sure she'll ask no more.