Tears, Idle Tears（1/2）

Alfred Tennyson

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they an,

Tears fro the depth of so dive despair

Risethe heart, and gather to the eyes,

In lookg on the happy Autun-fields,

And thkg of the days that are no ore.

Fresh as the first bea glitterg on a sail,

That brgs our friends fro the underworld,

Sad as the st which reddens over one

That sks with all we love below the verge;

So sad, so fresh, the days that are no ore.

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