Maid of the sombre sway,

Breathing woe

In a murmur low,

And her lips are pale

And her body frail.

Send Sorrow away.

Send Sorrow away,

Foe of the dancing day.

Oh! her cheeks fall in,

And her hands are thin,

But her grip is fast

On the changeless past;

And they sere and clutch

The soul they touch.

Send Sorrow away.[Pg 22]

[Pg 22]

Send Sorrow away,

For she haunts me night and day.

And Sorrow is dressed in grey,

Yes, Sorrow is dressed in grey.

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