What would I give for a heart of flesh to warm me through,
Instead of this heart of stone ice-cold whatever I do;
Hard and cold and small, of all hearts the worst of all.
What would I give for words, if only words would come;
But now in its misery my spirit has fallen dumb:
O, merry friends, go your way, I have never a word to say.
The third line is internally rhymed, a neat, concise summary of an emotional state that is far from simple. Why has her heart grown ‘hard and cold’? And why should it be the worst of all hearts? This is a clear statement of self-hatred that is difficult to fathom.
What would I give?