Song of Sorrow

I CAN sing not of youth or of morning ;
    I have ears for no music of bird ;
I have eyes for no beauty adorning
The lives of young lovers. One warning
    I bring you—one bitter cold word :
    Sorrow, sorrow, I sing,
    Sorrow, sorrow :
The woods echo—Sorrow, and echoing, say—
    If it come not to-day,
    Then—to-morrow.

I can sing not of love or of laughter ;
    These fail and are ended and die ;
As an echo beneath the wood’s rafter
Swoons off, and is heard never after,
    So love and so laughter wing by.
    Sorrow, sorrow, I sing,
    Sorrow, sorrow :
The years answer—Sorrow, and answering, say—
    Ye who weep not to-day
    Will to-morrow.