I had a little sorrow
Born of a little Sin,
I found a room all damp with gloom
And shut us all within;
And, 'Little Sorrow, weep,' said I,
'And, Little Sin, pray God to die,
And I upon the floor will lie
And think how bad I've been!'
Alas for pious planning--
It mattered not a whit!
As far as gloom went in that room,
The lamp might have been lit!
My little Sorrow would not weep,
My little Sin would go to sleep--
To save my soul I could not keep
My graceless mind on it!
So up I got in anger,
And took a book I had,
And put a ribbon in my hair
To please a passing lad,
And, "One thing there's no getting by--
I've been a wicked girl,' said I;
'But if I can't be sorry, why,
I might as well be glad!'
