Bitter Are Many Tears, but Sweet Are Some

Bitter are many tears, but sweet are some;
These have short courses, those run long and wide.
Who hath not struck his brow when Time hath plow'd
Its flowery fields, at thought of wrong and pain
A careless hour inflicted? Mere neglect
Of helping up a sufferer, is enough
By its reflection to o'ershadow years
Serenely lying on life's colder slope.
Well is it for us when we feel the power
To take another turn, a fairer view,
And bring back homeward little charities,
And hear kind words and grateful sighs again.
Ah! 'tis refreshing as the earlier breath
Of mower's morn: then tears are sweet indeed,
And from no earth-stain'd sources do they flow.