Puzzle

I who continued to be alone, writing happy taste poetry,
Yes rhymes written by her laughter than, still are empty,
as morning dawn left and water shore gripping,
an evening ended with harmony, rhyming and according.

Now the hidden lines sing through the waves of mine side,
with each dark place it breaks, appearing the sour strife,
rhyme were the rhymester to a greedily need, in a splendor light,
those bard waiting death love moans before me greatly arrive.

When the sonnets verse speedily bowled to take above our voices,
all other doors always guide about another song of different poets,
shadow never backs bone and his muse for bitter or sea love,
willing night life in awaken, coal was like those words.