Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,/ Tears from the depth of some divine despair.

It becomes no man to nurse despair, but, in the teeth of clenched antagonisms, to follow up the worthiest till he die.

I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair.

I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair.

I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair.

And down I went to fetch my bride:
But, Alice, you were ill at ease;
This dress and that by turns you tried,
Too fearful that you should not please.
I loved you better for your fears,
I knew you could not look but well;
And dews, that would have fall'n in tears,
I kiss'd away before they fell.