Gems in the Folds of Night

    If my sleeping tear awakens
    To knock on the door
    Of your disconsolate heart,
    Then you must look to find
    My image tucked inside night’s concealing folds.     
    And if  my silence acquires speech,
    I will whisper our woes to the stars
    Before they twinkle into oblivion.
    All the pains of love
    Are priceless gems, gathered up
    And treasured by the moon,     
    As they gleam with invisible sympathy;     
    They are stored in that          
    Shadowy divide between night and day,
    Where all sad hearts
    Are gently taught
    How to console one another.