O Wistful Eyes That Haunt The Gloom Of Sleep, Are You My Own, Remembered From The Night I Sat Before My Glass In Dumb Affright And Saw My Cowering Soul Afraid To Weep? Perhaps You Are His, Foreshadowed, When I Creep Behind Him And Confess The Hopeless Blight That Wilts The Bloom Of Our Supreme Delight The Breath Of Horror From The Unknown Deep. Eyes That Have Never Seen A Mother'S Face, Have You No Mercy That You Stare And Stare, Although I Never Felt The Hope I Slew? Wide Eyes, But When I Kneel To God For Grace, Your Steadfast Pity Deepens My Despair; The Darkness I Desire Is Full Of You.