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Classic and Contemporary Poetry | |||
Oh! Sorrow, Sorrow, scarce I knew. Your name when, shaking down the may In sport, a little child, I grew Afraid to find you at my play. I heard it ere I looked at you; You sang it softly as you came Bringing your little boughs of yew To fling across my gayest game. Oh! Sorrow, Sorrow, was I fair That when I decked me for a bride, You met me stepping down the stair And led me from my lover's side? Was I so dear you could not spare The maid to love, the child to play, But coming always unaware, Must bid and beckon me away? Oh! Sorrow, Sorrow, is my bed So wide and warm that you must lie Upon it; toss your weary head And stir my slumber with your sigh? I left my love at your behest, I waved your little boughs of yew, But, Sorrow, Sorrow, let me rest, For oh! I cannot sleep with you! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest... |
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