What bitter sorrow courses down br Yon mourner’s faded cheek? br Those scalding drops betray a grief br Within, too full to speak. br Outspoken words cannot express br The pangs, the pains of years; br They’re ne’er so deep or eloquent br As are those silent tears. br Here is a wound that in the breast br Must canker, hid’n from sight; br Though all without seems sunny day, br Within ’Tis ever night. br Yet sometimes from this secret source br The gloomy truth appears; br The wind’s dark dungeon must have vent br If but in silent tears. br br The world may deem from outward looks br That heart is hard and cold; br But oh! could they the mantle lift br What sorrows would be told! br Then, only then, the truth would show br Which most the bosom sears: br The pain portrayed by burning words br Or that by—silent tears.