From how many faces hast Thou peered
And lured my pain-shy heart to dream,
Reticent to the stings I yet ventured
Daring Thy gambit to be and become.

Each Thy masquerade I have adored,
The voiced and voiceless both,
Yet from both Thou hast abandoned
Me to barren air of a loveless breath.

My heart like a harp unplayed remains,
Untouched with a patina of sorrow
That coats all its unsought depths,
Thy playing hands it never shall know.

Dost my happy song grate much Thy ear
Or doth my sorrow-song please Thee more?