THE PENITENT - Evan MacColl Poems


Poems » evan maccoll » the penitent

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 I got up in anger,
And took a book I had,
    And put a ribbon on my 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!"