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!
