Analysis of Missed.

Pity the child who never feels
        A mother's fond caress;
    That childish smile a void conceals
        Of aching loneliness.

Pity the heart which loves in vain,
        What balm or mystic spell
    Can soothe that bosom's secret pain,
        The pain it may not tell?

Pity those missed by Cupid's darts,
        For 'twas ordained for such,
    Who love at random, but whose hearts
        Feel no responsive touch.