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!"