by Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950)
Am I kin to Sorrow, That so oft Falls the knocker of my door -- Neither loud nor soft, But as long accustomed, Under Sorrow's hand? Marigolds around the step And rosemary stand, And then comes Sorrow -- And what does Sorrow care For the rosemary Or the marigolds there? Am I kin to Sorrow? Are we kin? That so oft upon my door -- Oh, come in!