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ANOTHER SONG WITHOUT WORDS, by             Poem Explanation     Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Too red, too red the roses were
Last Line: And of all things but you . . . But you. . . .
Subject(s): Flowers; Hair; Roses; Singing & Singers

Too red, too red the roses were,
Too black the ivy on the tree --

Dear, at the trembling of your hair
All my despair comes back to me.

Too blue and tender was the sky,
The sea too green, the air too sweet --

I always fear -- why should not I? --
The cruel fleeing of your feet.

I am weary of leaves bright and dim,
Of shining box and sombre yew,

Of the horizon's endless rim,
And of all things but you . . . but you. . . .

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