VERSE: A CROWN OF SORROW

A Sorrow, wet with early tears Yet bitter, had been long with me; I wearied of this weight of years, And would be free.

I tore my Sorrow from my heart, I cast it far away in scorn; Right joyful that we two could part— Yet most forlorn.

I sought, (to take my Sorrow’s place,) Over the world for flower or gem— But she had had an ancient grace Unknown to them.

I took once more with strange delight My slighted Sorrow; proudly now, I wear it, set with stars of light, Upon my brow.