This organ of the digestive track seems to have nothing to do with the words of the poem.
The roses were all red,
And the ivy all black.
Beloved, when you become a little restless,
All my despair is reborn.
The sky was too blue, too tender,
The sea too green, and the air too mild;
I am always afraid of what may come,
Of some cruel flight of yours!
Of the green-leaved holly,
And of the shining box trees, I am weary,
And of the endless countryside,
And of everything, except you. Alas!
2007-09-30
05:19:34
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4 answers
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asked by
AA
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Arts & Humanities
➔ Poetry