Send Sorrow away,
For she haunts me night and day.
And Sorrow is dressed in grey,
Yes, Sorrow is dressed in grey.
And she looks so old,
So drawn, so cold—
Send Sorrow away.
Alas!
So softly Time trod with me, that I lost
His footsteps pacing mine. I stayed the while
To wrest the luscious fruits from love and life;
He strode on pauselessly, with thin cold smile.
So surely Time trod with me; marred my bloom,
Stole all my roses, spread his cobwebs grey,
Wrung all my tresses in his silvering hand;
So stealthily he lured my youth away
I only learned that I was old—to-day.
I could have borne it bravely, this I know,
Had not the lips of children told me so.