What would I give for a heart of flesh to warm me through,Instead of this heart of stone ice-cold whatever I do;Hard and cold and small, of all hearts the worst of all.
What would I give for words, if only words would come;But now in its misery my spirit has fallen dumb:Oh, merry friends, go your own way, I have never a word to say.
What would I give for tears, not smiles but scalding tears,To wash the black mark clean, and to thaw the frost of years,To wash the stain ingrain and to make me clean again.