GRAY EYES.
Sitting alone in my room,
Alone in the gathering gloom,
Solitude in the rest of the tomb.
While the drip, drip, drip of the rain,
Like tears that are falling in vain
For a loss that is gone past regain,
Falls soft on the window-pane
Of my room.
Alone, alone, alone.
And no one to hear my moan
In the world’s great heart of stone;
Only poverty that wakes disgust,
Only promises light as dust,
And nought that is true or just,
Cold hearts that you cannot trust —
Alone.
Weary of hopes that fade.
Of a life that is one long shade
Of joys that bloom decayed,
Fall cool on my heart, O rain,
Till you soften this bitter pain,
This ice that doth it enchain —
Oh, let it once hope again,
Or fade.
Ye who in the crowd pass by,
Not giving a glance or a sigh,
Not heeding my lonely cry.
Oh, pause, and say, ere you go,
Is there love in that world you know?
You have caused me all my woe.
Gray eyes, gray eyes, ah! so
Pass by.