I had a little Sorrow, <br />Born of a little Sin, <br />I found a room all damp with gloom <br />And shut us all within; <br />And, "Little Sorrow, weep," said I, <br />"And, Little Sin, pray God to die, <br />And I upon the floor will lie <br />And think how bad I've been!" <br /> <br />Alas for pious planning— <br />It mattered not a whit! <br />As far as gloom went in that room, <br />The lamp might have been lit! <br />My little Sorrow would not weep, <br />My little Sin would go to sleep— <br />To save my soul I could not keep <br />My graceless mind on it! <br /> <br />So I got up in anger, <br />And took a book I had, <br />And put a ribbon on my hair <br />To please a passing lad, <br />And, "One thing there's no getting by— <br />I've been a wicked girl," said I: <br />"But if I can't be sorry, why, <br />I might as well be glad!"<br /><br />Edna St. Vincent Millay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-penitent/
