David Herbert Lawrence- Sorrow |  |
| Why does the thin grey strand | | | Floating up from the forgotten | | | Cigarette between my fingers, | | | Why does it trouble me? | | | | | Ah, you will understand; | | | When I carried my mother downstairs, | | | A few times only, at the beginning | | | Of her soft-foot malady, | | | | | I should find, for a reprimand | | | To my gaiety, a few long grey hairs | | | On the breast of my coat; and one by one | | | I let them float up the dark chimney. | |
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