Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Sorrow

Sorrow like a ceaseless rain
   Beats upon my heart.
People twist and scream in pain,—
Dawn will find them still again;
This has neither wax nor wane,
   Neither stop nor start.

People dress and go to town;
   I sit in my chair.
All my thoughts are slow and brown:
Standing up or sitting down
Little matters, or what gown
   Or what shoes I wear.

1. The Snow Storm
2. When We Are Old And These Rejoicing Veins
3. Intention to Escape from Him
4. To S. M.
5. Scrub

David Lawrence Sorrow ("Why does the thin grey strand")

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