 | Silverpoints |  |
XXV
SPLEEN
The roses every one were red,
And all the ivy leaves were black.
And all the ivy leaves were black.
Sweet, do not even stir your head,
Or all of my despairs come back.
Or all of my despairs come back.
The sky is too blue, too delicate:
Too soft the air, too green the sea.
Too soft the air, too green the sea.
I fear—how long had I to wait!—
That you will tear yourself from me.
That you will tear yourself from me.
The shining box-leaves weary me,
The varnished holly's glistening,
The varnished holly's glistening,
The stretch of infinite country;
So, saving you, does everything.
So, saving you, does everything.
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