The Tear.

On beds of snow the moonbeam slept, And chilly was the midnight gloom, When by the damp grave Ellen wept— Fond maid! it was her Lindor's tomb! A warm tear gushed, the wintry air, Congealed it as it flowed away: All night it lay an ice-drop there, At morn it glittered in the ray. An angel, wandering from her sphere, Who saw this bright, this frozen gem, To dew-eyed Pity brought the tear And hung it on her diadem!