The Kiplings and India: A Collection of Writings from British India, 1870-1900

On Sorrow (Alice MacDonald Fleming)

Tell me no more,
As once before,
   Of love, and Love's delight;
Since now my day
Hath passed away
   Into a winter's night.

Time was, indeed, 
That I did heed, 
   Nothing that was not glad;
But out, alas!
'Tis come to pass
   That all my life is sad.  

Find, merry train
Another swain,
   To join your dances' sweep;
For I alone
Will sit and moan
  And for my sorrows weep.  

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