Who goes a borrowing, goes a sorrowing.
When by the Ruins oft I past My sorrowing eyes aside did castAnd here and there the places spyWhere oft I sate and long did lie.Here stood that Trunk, and there that chest,There lay that store I counted best,My pleasant things in ashes lieAnd them behold no more shall I.Under the roof no guest shall sit,Nor at thy Table eat a bit.No pleasant talk shall 'ere be toldNor things recounted done of old.No Candle 'ere shall shine in Thee,Nor bridegroom's voice ere heard shall bee.In silence ever shalt thou lie.
The lives of happy people are dense with their own doings -- crowded, active, thick. But the sorrowing are nomads, on a plain with few landmarks and no boundaries; sorrow's horizons are vague and its demands are few.
Last Update: January, 2020