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

        Edna St. Vincent Millay