Sorrow
D Dora Sigerson Shorter
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Into my heart, Sorrow, you found a way;
Mine enemy, it was bitter to weep and pray;
I gave you tears for drinking,
And heart-sick sobs,
With brain too sick for thinking,
And to the throbs
Of my sad heart I hushed you till I crushed you
Into rest for all your thorns.
Into my heart, Sorrow, too oft you came;
Mine enemy, I heed not nor dread your name.
Frozen the stream of your quaffing,
And now your rest
Is broken with my laughing.
To my breast
In these mine arms I hush you till I crush you
Into rest for all your thorns.
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