THE FOUNT OF TEARS

All hot and grimy from the road,

Dust gray from arduous years,

I sat me down and eased my load

Beside the Fount of Tears.

The waters sparkled to my eye,

Calm, crystal-like, and cool,

And breathing there a restful sigh,

I bent me to the pool.

When, lo! a voice cried: “Pilgrim, rise,

Harsh tho’ the sentence be,

And on to other lands and skies —

This fount is not for thee.

“Pass on, but calm thy needless fears,

Some may not love or sin,

An angel guards the Fount of Tears;

All may not bathe therein.”

Then with my burden on my back

I turned to gaze awhile,

First at the uninviting track,

Then at the water's smile.

And so I go upon my way,

Thro'out the sultry years,

But pause no more, by night, by day,

Beside the Fount of Tears.