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Alfred Austin - Sorrow’s Importunity
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When Sorrow first came wailing to my door,
 April rehearsed the madrigal of May;
 And, as I ne`er had seen her face before,
 I kept on singing, and she went her way.

 When next came Sorrow, life was winged with scent
 Of glistening laurel and full—blossoming bay:
 I asked, but understood not, what she meant,
 Offered her flowers, and she went her way.

 When yet a third time Sorrow came, we met
 In the ripe silence of an Autumn day:
 I gave her fruit I had gathered, and she ate,
 Then seemed to go unwillingly away.

 When last came Sorrow, around barn and byre
 Wind—carven snow, the Year`s white sepulchre, lay.
 ``Come in,`` I said, ``and warm you by the fire.``
 And there she sits, and never goes away.
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