Have I no hope, no choice?
Oh, Heaven, with light, has sound, too, from me fled!
Call, shout aloud, as if to wake the dead.
Thank God! I hear you now.
I hear the beating of your troubled heart,
With every wo of mine it has a part;
Upon my upturned brow
The hot tears fall, from those dear eyes, for me.
Once more, oh is it true I may not see?
This silence chills my blood.