SOME quick kind tears, some easy sorrow, br And then 'tis past. br 'Twas sad; yet sadness has its morrow; br Blue skies succeed skies overcast: br Why should grief last? br br Something that's passing, something dying. br Well, weep one's fill, br Spend grief's sweet courtesy, go sighing; br But violets break from snow-time's chill: br Who can mourn still? br br Aye, let me pass. No life will miss me br Save few first days. br A shudder, stooping down to kiss me, br A little love and tardy praise; br Then the old ways.