polyarchivist January 18, 2007

Kin to Sorrow
AM I kin to Sorrow, 
    That so oft 
Falls the knocker of my door— 
    Neither loud nor soft, 
But as long accustomed,     
    Under Sorrow’s hand? 
Marigolds around the step 
    And rosemary stand, 
And then comes Sorrow— 
    And what does Sorrow care      
For the rosemary 
    Or the marigolds there? 
Am I kin to Sorrow? 
    Are we kin? 
That so oft upon my door—        
    Oh, come in! 

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