What are tears?

When you shed your tears in

pain;

You think I understand nothing

You said I don't even know
a thing:
But I know I am not
a saint,
I know only this much
That tears are nothing but
a fountain,
That spring from the well of
heart,
consoling the poor saddened
heart,
Dewdrops from the inner well,
Condensed pains and sorrows
that swell,
And run dry from the bottom of the
heart,
An evaporated-out sadness of the heart that
outpoured all sadness of mankind.