O never trust the heart's assurance -
Trust only the heart's fear.
And what I'm saying is, Go back, my lovely -
Though you will never hear.

O never trust your pride of movement -
Trust only pride's distress.
The only holy limbs are the broken fingers
Still raised to praise and bless.

For the careless heart is bound with chains
And terribly cast down:
The beast of pride is hunted out
And baited through the town.