They do not see my tears are shed as rain,

Of water drawn with care from freezing seas,

My pulse is made of lightning and of pain,

Yet who would hear the fading of my pleas?

So I must flee, a failing scrap of storm,

To cry my tears upon some caring shore.

On you my heart has set, and starts to warm;

Reality with you I can adore.

My dear! - you mend my tears; I tend my fears - 

Have I been cruel, at you too fiercely flown?

And ravaged you with waves of ruined tears?

Vast sorrows I was meant to bear alone?

Each tear of mine has rolled across your cheek;

Now let me be a comfort you can seek.