Sorrow Train

Sorrow more than sorrow bears,
the somber silk so softly flows,
and on the silver rails met,
the stories of the saddest sort,
the pitfalls of the largest tears,
but larger still are those that never fall.

In sweetest silence moves the sorrow train.
above the earth, and then below,
it glides upon the tides of tears,
and weeping, moves it further on,
and from the softened heart a cry,
a whimper to the dying crowd.

If ever more a tear might fall,
and caught atop the silver rail,
might turn it there to plated gold,
and never hear a solemn cry,
might leave the ashes far behind,
and sweep the sadness in the breeze.