No one knows the secret sighing,—
Sobbing in a neighbor's heart;
No one knows the fond hopes dying—
No one knows the cruel smart.
No one knows the hungry yearning
Of a neighbor's cheerless soul;
No one knows how grief is burning
In the heart where love grows cold.
None but God knows each desire;
He alone knows griefs untold:
Ah, He sees the heart's slow fire
Dying out as love grows cold.
Ah, I see your neighbor sitting,
Often with a low bowed head;
And I know how grief is flitting
Through his heart, where hope is dead.
