Our lady of Useless Tears,
Thine is my heart's best shrin
I am sick with the gorging years,
I am drunk with the bitter wine
Of having but cares and fears,
Of knowing but how to pin
It is useless to pray to thee,
But my heart is full of pai
Thy glance would be charity,
Even if the look were disdai
Give me that I may be
A child like thine agai
My sense of me is all tear
I pity my heart too muc
O a cradle for my fears
And the hem of thy garment to clutch!
O wert thou alive and near us,
And thy hand a hand that could touch!