It's not for lack of woe that I don't cry, And truly, it was never always so. I've doused my share of shoulders by and by, And dampened mine for others, don't you know. But time it seems has hardened this old heart, And numbed it from the cast unto the core. The seams of all the world could come apart, And I would stand there idly on the shore. From God, I ask not love, nor sympathy, But for this tangled heart to be unfurled. I don't want all the world to cry for me, But care enough to cry for all the world.