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Ernest Christopher Dowson - After Paul Verlaine-III
Work rating: Low

SPLEEN

  Around were all the roses red,
  The ivy all around was black.

  Dear, so thou only move thine head,
  Shall all mine old despairs awake!

  Too blue, too tender was the sky,
  The air too soft, too green the sea.

  Always I fear, I know not why,
  Some lamentable flight from thee.

  I am so tired of holly-sprays
  And weary of the bright box-tree,

  Of all the endless country ways;
  Of everything alas! save thee.
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