The Woods
My sorrow lives in the woods.
I cannot complain to anyone.
I must bear it to the woods
in the deepest loneliness.
If ever in future times
someone comes for that reason
he can find in the woods
the shy sorrow of my heart.
When he sees far off in the woods,
alone and quiet,
the deepest shadows lying,
that is my somber sorrow
poem by James Comerford
Added by Poetry Lover
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