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Ernest Dowson

Ernest Dowson

A poem by Ernest Dowson: The Garden of Shadow

  The Garden of Shadow Love heeds no more the sighing of the wind Against the perfect flowers: thy garden’s close Is grown a wilderness, where none shall find One strayed, last petal of one last year’s rose. O bright, …

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A poem by Ernest Dowson: The Dead Child

  The Dead Child Sleep on, dear, now The last sleep and the best, And on thy brow, And on thy quiet breast Violets I throw. Thy scanty years Were mine a little while; Life had no fears To trouble …

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A poem by Ernest Dowson: Terre Promise

  Terre Promise Even now the fragrant darkness of her hair Had brushed my cheek; and once, in passing by, Her hand upon my hand lay tranquilly: What things unspoken trembled in the air! Always I know, how little severs …

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A poem by Ernest Dowson: Spleen

  Spleen <i>(For Arthur Symons)</i> 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 …

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A poem by Ernest Dowson: Seraphita

  Seraphita Come not before me now, O visionary face! Me tempest-tost, and borne along life’s passionate sea; Troublous and dark and stormy though my passage be; Not here and now may we commingle or embrace, Lest the loud anguish …

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A poem by Ernest Dowson: Sapientia Lunae

  Sapientia Lunae The wisdom of the world said unto me: ‘_Go forth and run, the race is to the brave; Perchance some honour tarrieth for thee!_’ ‘As tarrieth,’ I said, ‘for sure, the grave.’ For I had pondered on …

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A poem by Ernest Dowson: Saint Germain-En-Laye

  Saint Germain-En-Laye (1887-1895) Through the green boughs I hardly saw thy face, They twined so close: the sun was in mine eyes; And now the sullen trees in sombre lace Stand bare beneath the sinister, sad skies. O sun …

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A poem by Ernest Dowson: Rondeau

  Rondeau Ah, Manon, say, why is it we Are one and all so fain of thee? Thy rich red beauty debonnaire In very truth is not more fair, Than the shy grace and purity That clothe the maiden maidenly; …

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A poem by Ernest Dowson: My Lady April

  My Lady April Dew on her robe and on her tangled hair; Twin dewdrops for her eyes; behold her pass, With dainty step brushing the young, green grass, The while she trills some high, fantastic air, Full of all …

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A poem by Ernest Dowson: Moritura

  Moritura A song of the setting sun! The sky in the west is red, And the day is all but done: While yonder up overhead, All too soon, There rises, so cold, the cynic moon. A song of a …

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A poem by Ernest Dowson: Libera Me

  Libera Me Goddess the laughter-loving, Aphrodite, befriend! Long have I served thine altars, serve me now at the end, Let me have peace of thee, truce of thee, golden one, send. Heart of my heart have I offered thee, …

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A poem by Ernest Dowson: Jadis

  Jadis Erewhile, before the world was old, When violets grew and celandine, In Cupid’s train we were enrolled: Erewhile! Your little hands were clasped in mine, Your head all ruddy and sun-gold Lay on my breast which was your …

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A poem by Ernest Dowson : In Spring

  In Spring See how the trees and the osiers lithe Are green bedecked and the woods are blithe, The meadows have donned their cape of flowers, The air is soft with the sweet May showers, And the birds make …

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