Philip Bourke Marston - Sonnet III lyrics

What thing may be to come I cannot know. Her eyes have less of hell in them, meanwhile; At times she almost smiles a ghastly smile, I have in all things done her bidding so. Chill are the rooms wherein no bright fires glow, Where no fair picture does the eye beguile; Once awful laughter shook the gloomy pile, Unholy, riotous shapes went to and fro. There is no sound, now, in the house at all, Only outside the wind moans on, alway. My Lady Sorrow has no word to say, Seems half content; for well she knows her thrall Shall not escape from her; that should God call She would rise with him at the Judgment Day.