Kin To Sorrow

Am I kin to Sorrow,

That so oft Falls the knocker of my door — Neither loud nor soft,

But as long accustomed,

Under Sorrow's hand?

Marigolds around the step And rosemary stand,

And then comes Sorrow — And what does Sorrow care For the rosemary Or the marigolds there?

Am I kin to Sorrow?

Are we kin?

That so oft upon my door — Oh, come in!