The Princess: A Medley: Tears, Idle Tears

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
    Tears from the depth of some divine despair
    Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
    In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
    And thinking of the days that are no more.
        Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
    That brings our friends up from the underworld,
    Sad as the last which reddens over one
    That sinks with all we love below the verge;
   So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.

       Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
   The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds
   To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
   The casement slowly grows a summering square;
   So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.

       Dear as remember'd kisses after death,
   And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd
   On lips that are for others; deep as love,
   Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
   O Death in Life, the days that are no more!