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...LACEDEMONIAN INSTRUCTION by WILLIAM BLAKE AN INVOCATION; SONG, FR. REMORSE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE A DEATH SONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR SCORN NOT THE LEAST by ROBERT SOUTHWELL AN HYMN IN HONOUR OF BEAUTY by EDMUND SPENSER COME UP FROM THE FIELDS FATHER by WALT WHITMAN NEVERNESS, OR THE ONE SHIP BEACHED ON ONE FAR DISTANT SHORE by MARGARET AVISON CHOPIN'S NOCTURNE IN G MINOR by ARLO BATES A DIALOGUE (TO BE SUNG TO THE VIOL, BY A BASE, AND A TREBLE) by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |