THE TEAR.
Reading edition
On beds of snow the moonbeam slept, And chilly was the midnight gloom, When by the damp grave Ellen wept— Fond maid! it was her Lindor's tomb!
A warm tear gushed, the wintry air, Congealed it as it flowed away: All night it lay an ice-drop there, At morn it glittered in the ray.
An angel, wandering from her sphere, Who saw this bright, this frozen gem, To dew-eyed Pity brought the tear And hung it on her diadem!