Kin To Sorrow

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!