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  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, 17