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 Suicide
2. Departure
3. Low-Tide
4. Renascence
5. Sonnets 04: Only Until This Cigarette Is Ended

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

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