Classic Poem

When tears from such as thee bedew the cheek,
In scenes like this — 'twould seem that heavenly eyes
The soften'd glories of religion speak,
And claim the dewdrop from their kindred skies.

'Tis said that female saints of other days
From grovelling guilt could purge the foulest breast,
And teach the poor deluded wretch the ways
That lead to mansions of eternal rest.

And who could look upon thy heavenly face,
Nor feel his breast with sacred fervor glow;
While every tear that fell from thee would chase
Each thought that link'd him to this world below.

If then one tear of thine — one murmur'd sigh,
Can tune the heart to sacred scenes like this,
Why doubt the power to lure the soul on high,
And lead it captive to the realms of bliss?