In the Heart of the Gloomy Wood
In the Heart of the Gloomy Wood (A poem in Victorian dialect) Amidst the ancient forest's shade, Where whispers of the past do tread, The solemn trees, in mournful array, Their leaves like tears, in silence laid. The mossy ground, a carpet green, Doth bear the weight of sorrow's sheen, Where shadows dance with ghostly light, And melancholy reigns, both day and night. The wind, it sighs a mournful tune, Through boughs that creak beneath the moon, Each rustling leaf a whispered woe, A symphony of sorrow's ebb and flow. The brook, it murmurs in its course, A tale of grief, devoid of force, Its waters dark, its bed of stone, A pathway to the depths unknown. In this deep wood, where time doth stand, The heart doth feel the touch of hand, A presence felt but not espied, Of phantoms past, where dreams do hide. The nightingale, with tender voice, Doth sing of love in hapless choice, Her melody, a dirge so sweet, That even the stars do weep to meet. So wander here, with steps so l...