When sparrows build and the leaves break forth, My old sorrow wakes and cries.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
My sorrow, when she's here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane.
In this sad world of ours, sorrow comes to all; and to the young, it comes with bitterest agony because it takes them unawares. I have had experience enough to know what I say.
Every life has a measure of sorrow, and sometimes this is what awakens us.
Excessive sorrow laughs. Excessive joy weeps.
I am certain that the Lord, who notes the fall of a sparrow, looks with compassion upon those who have been called upon to part, even temporarily, from their precious children.
Tell me not of joy: there's none Now my little sparrow's gone; He, just as you, Would toy and woo, He would chirp and flatter me, He would hang the wing awhile, Till at length he saw me smile, Lord! how sullen he would be!
Sorrow lies like a heartbeat behind everything I have written.
Tears fall in my heart like the rain on the town.
The sparrow that is twittering on the edge of my balcony is calling up to me this moment a world of memories that reach over half my lifetime, and a world of hope that stretches farther than any flight of sparrows.
I am only a sparrow amongst a great flock of sparrows.