He never heard me crying
To the empty and uncaring skies;
I cried about the cold formality
In his touch, and his hollow eyes

He never heard me praying
As the setting sun inflamed the West;
I prayed I might rekindle the embers
Of  love that once burned in his breast

He never heard me calling
To the immured realm of his mind,
Hoping the echoes would shatter the walls
And free the love he kept confined

He never heard me saying
"I love you" -- his passion unstirred;
How silent the cries of the heart can be . . . .
. . . . . . . . . .   he never heard!