Poems (Millay)/Sorrow

For works with similar titles, see Sorrow.
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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 downLittle matters, or what gown Or what shoes I wear.
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