Classic Poem

Forever her house touching mine
In a block of houses, low and gray.
She took my friends, she took my peace,
She took my lover's soul away.

I put the miles between us, saying:
" The one regret I'll have will be
My ivy-vine, the only thing
She never stole away from me! "
. . . . . . . . .

I have come back to watch it leaf —
But little blackened twigs are all!
They dance their mortuary dance
Mockingly on my wind-swept wall.

My vine! Ah, it has crept its way,
Treacherous, stealthy, more and more
From my gray house to her gray house,
And stopped its pace above her door!

Green, green for her the ivy-vine!
O ivy, ivy,
I'll never come to what is mine!