The Tear Sent To Her From Staines.

Glide, gentle streams, and bear     Along with you my tear     To that coy girl     Who smiles, yet slays     Me with delays,     And strings my tears as pearl.     See! see, she's yonder set,     Making a carcanet     Of maiden-flowers!     There, there present     This orient     And pendant pearl of ours.     Then say I've sent one more     Gem to enrich her store;     And that is all     Which I can send,     Or vainly spend,     For tears no more will fall.     Nor will I seek supply     Of them, the spring's once dry;     But I'll devise,     Among the rest,     A way that's best     How I may save mine eyes.     Yet say - should she condemn     Me to surrender them     Then say my part     Must be to weep     Out them, to keep     A poor, yet loving heart.     Say too, she would have this;     She shall: then my hope is,     That when I'm poor     And nothing have     To send or save,     I'm sure she'll ask no more.