Spleen



(For Arthur Symons)

I was not sorrowful, I could not weep,
And all my memories were put to sleep.

I watched the river grow more white and strange,
All day till evening I watched it change.

All day till evening I watched the rain
Beat wearily upon the window pane

I was not sorrowful, but only tired
Of everything that ever I desired.

Her lips, her eyes, all day became to me
The shadow of a shadow utterly.

All day mine hunger for her heart became
Oblivion, until the evening came,

And left me sorrowful, inclined to weep,
With all my memories that could not sleep.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

32 sec read
94

Quick analysis:

Scheme X AA BB CC DD EE FF AA
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 559
Words 108
Stanzas 8
Stanza Lengths 1, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2

Ernest Christopher Dowson

Ernest Christopher Dowson was born in 1867 at Lea in Kent England he was an English poet novelist and writer of short stories associated with the Decadent movement Most of his life was spent in France more…

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    "Spleen" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 25 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/12811/spleen>.

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