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.
