Solitude
Comes,
With
Its
Veil
Of
Gloom,
And
Occupies
A
Corner
Of
The
Room.
The
Twin,
Loneliness,
Saunters
In
And
Takes
A
Chair.
Regrets
Bloom
Everywhere,
In
A
Field
Of
Cares.
I must
Labor
To
Forget
These
Ghosts,
Art’s
Silent
Hosts
And
A
Creators
Saints,
And
Paint.