Oh, Serious Eyes! How Is It That The Light, The Burning Rays That Mine Pour Into Ye, Still Find Ye Cold, And Dead, And Dark, As Night - Oh, Lifeless Eyes! Can Ye Not Answer Me? Oh, Lips! Whereon Mine Own So Often Dwell, Hath Love'S Warm, Fearful, Thrilling Touch, No Spell To Waken Sense In Ye? - Oh, Misery! - Oh, Breathless Lips! Can Ye Not Speak To Me? Thou Soulless Mimicry Of Life! My Tears Fall Scalding Over Thee; In Vain, In Vain; I Press Thee To My Heart, Whose Hopes, And Fears, Are All Thine Own; Thou Dost Not Feel The Strain. Oh, Thou Dull Image! Wilt Thou Not Reply To My Fond Prayers And Wild Idolatry?