Go back to Sorrow

Aubrey de Vere (1788 - 1846)
Sorrow

When I was young, I said to Sorrow,
"Come I will play with thee!" --
He is near me now all day;
And at night returns to say,
"I will come again to-morrow,
I will come and stay with thee."

Through the woods we walk together;
His soft footsteps rustle nigh me.
To shield an unregarded head,
He hath built a wintry shed;
And all night in rainy weather,
I hear his gentle breathings by me.


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