SORROW, since I perforce must dwell with thee,
Being as thou art, no transient guest, but bold
As cunning to invade my heart, and hold
The darkened mansion of my life in fee;
And since thy face uncomely is to see,
Thy voice more harsh than shrillest tongue of scold,
I wrap thee in my fairer thought, and fold
My song about thee when thou sufferest me.

And, thus disguised, I take with thee the air,
We walk together on life's open ways;
Then meeting us, if some account thee fair,
I hold thee too less foul, and weave new lays
To robe thee in—alas, it is my share
To toil, and own thy title to all praise.