My heart once wildly leaping,
In joy or grief or pride,
Now quietly is sleeping,
Its hopes have long since died.
It knows nose joy or sadness,
It beats nor slow nor fast,
The love once almost madness
Is buried in the past.

'Tis strange! Of that wild feeling,
The memory keeps no sigh;
Time if it brought no healing
Made it at least to die.
Yes -- it is dead forever,
To love, to joy and pain,
And e'en thy presence never
Can make it live again.