Spleen Poem by Paul Verlaine
Spleen
The roses were so red, so red,
The ivies altogether black.
If you but merely turn your head,
Beloved, all my despairs come back!
The sky was over-sweet and blue,
Too melting green the sea did show.
I always fear,--if you but knew!--
From your dear hand some killing blow.
Weary am I of holly-tree
And shining box and waving grass
Upon the tame unending lea,--
And all and all but you, alas!
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4/16/2024 11:41:00 AM # 1.0.0.1119
