Thursday, February 7, 2013


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!

Paintings by Algernon Newton (1880-1968) :
A. Summer Afternoon Over Bayswater
B. Evening Sky Over Church Street
C. Canal Scene, Maida Vale
D. In Kensington

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