There Is a Sound That Sorrow Makes

there is a sound that sorrow makes like death who in the silence takes both shape and form so shadow-like whose waking is a gentle night she as sultry lovers go who passing by but do not know the hours of time to late to show when the hour finds thee all alone. when the hour finds thee all alone there is a silhouette upon the grave which takes a horrid gothic shape who shapes the past and yet today is a fleeting light so far away there is a sound that sorrow makes she languors in the autumn lake of love when leaves have slowly turned saffron and the sky is burned both bright and dismal in its light both dark and crimson to the sight there is a sound that sorrow makes the sound is more than I can take in sorrow where my dreams are hung In sorrow thus the night becomes The morbid lover of my soul The ghost I cannot know.