Streams of joy flow unseen,
  Broken by grieving pebbles,
  that rumble and crash deep in.
  Its them the tones of grief,
  that add romance to a bald life.
  Of what joy a miamed brook,
  even with its beautiful wrap.
  The birds, trees and savage bloom,
  lay wasted beside that stream,
  which whispers not of its roams
  to the dreamy bard sitting by.
  What beauty hath that eye,
  which knows not a pearly tear?
  Of what animation a human,
  that tries not - to weep and cry,
  but keeps its heart in stony freeze.
  Of what worth to live a life,
  full of joy but no grief.
  Tears do garnish life,
  for sorrow is the joy in happiness.