acrostic poem

some one complained to the master
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
as a white candle
sweet splendor
passing through huddled and ugly walls
a flying word from here and there
i went up and down the streets
the poets tell
now for a brisk and cheerful fight
soft as the bed in the earth
risen from the dead
melancholy, blue it was
as it
one sweetly solemn thought