Stone Heart
Beneath this chest of winter’s keep,
Where silence folds her weary art,
No pulse may stir, no passion leap—
A frost hath bound my barren heart.
Once sang the lark of youth’s delight,
Once bloomed the rose in tender part;
But time hath quenched that golden light—
And stilled this stone-cold heart.
Yet thou, with eyes like twilight rain,
Whose sorrow softens where I start,
Couldst wake the long-forgotten pain,
And rend this frozen heart apart.
No sword, no flame, could pierce its shield,
No mortal warmth its depths impart;
But if thy tears should fall, revealed—
They’d break my stone-cold heart.
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