  My Sorrow, O my Sorrow, when first you came to rest Crouched huddling on my hearthstone, I held you to my breast And cuddled and caressed you, and rocked you o’er and o’er— My Sorrow like a baby that creeps upon the floor! I showed you to my neighbours, I made you rhymes to sing, For I was proud to own you, the delicate small thing; And so I nursed you always, till you are grown to-day, My Sorrow, like a tiger tense-crouching for his prey. Yea, silently and swiftly, my Sorrow, you have grown Till you are waxed so dreadful I dare not be alone— Alone I dare not face you, lest I be slain outright— I pray you, monster Sorrow, to sheathe your claws to-night! |
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