Oh, that was a good time, when I was unhappy. [Fr., Oh c'etait le bon temps, j'etais bien malheureuse.] - credited to Sophie Arnould,

When sparrows build and the leaves break forth My old sorrow wakes and cries.

She looked up at him and her face was pale and austere in the uplight and her eyes lost in their darkly shadowed hollows save only for the glint of them and he could see her throat move in the light and he saw in her face and in her figure something he'd not seen before and the name of that thing was sorrow.

Ah, don't be sorrowful darling, And don't be sorrowful, pray: Taking the year together, my dear, There isn't more night than day.

Night brings out stars as sorrow shows us truths.

I am full of the sorrow that goes with changes in surroundings, those successive stages of annihilation that slowly lead to the great and final void.