By Edna St. Vincent Millay

Sorrow like a ceaseless rain
   Beats upon my heart.
People twist and scream in pain,—
Dawn will find them still again;
This has neither wax nor wane,
   Neither stop nor start.
People dress and go to town;
    I sit in my chair.
All my thoughts are slow and brown:
Standing up or sitting down
Little matters, or what gown
    Or what shoes I wear.

Source: Sorrow
By Edna St. Vincent Millay

By Edna St. Vincent Millay, from Renascence and Other Poems, Gutenberg.org

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