Poetry of Edna St. Vincent Millay

Kin to Sorrow

Am I kin to Sorrow,
  That so oft
Falls the knocker of my door --
  Neither loud nor soft,
But as long accustomed,
  Under Sorrow's hand?
Marigolds around the step
  And rosemary stand,
And then comes Sorrow --
  And what does Sorrow care
For the rosemary
  Or the marigolds there?
Am I kin to Sorrow?
  Are we kin?
That so oft upon my door --
  *Oh, come in*!