Ernest Dowson Poems

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A Last Word

 Let us go hence: the night is now at hand; 
The day is overworn, the birds all flown; 
And we have reaped the crops the gods have sown; 
Despair and death; deep darkness o'er the land, 
Broods like an owl; we cannot understand 
Laughter or tears, for we have only known 
Surpassing vanity: vain things alone 
Have driven our...Read more of this...

Amor Profanus

 Beyond the pale of memory,
In some mysterious dusky grove;
A place of shadows utterly,
Where never coos the turtle-dove,
A world forgotten of the sun:
I dreamed we met when day was done,
And marvelled at our ancient love.

Met there by chance, long kept apart,
We wandered through the darkling glades;
And that old language of the heart
We sought to speak: alas! poor shades!
Over our pallid...Read more of this...

Exchanges

 All that I had I brought, 
 Little enough I know; 
A poor rhyme roughly wrought, 
 A rose to match thy snow: 
All that I had I brought. 

Little enough I sought: 
 But a word compassionate, 
A passing glance, or thought, 
 For me outside the gate: 
Little enough I sought. 

Little enough I found: 
 All...Read more of this...

Growth

 I watched the glory of her childhood change,
Half-sorrowful to find the child I knew,
 (Loved long ago in lily-time),
Become a maid, mysterious and strange,
With fair, pure eyes - dear eyes, but not the eyes I knew
 Of old, in the olden time!

Till on my doubting soul the ancient good
Of her dear childhood in the new disguise
 Dawned, and I...Read more of this...

In A Breton Cemetery

 They sleep well here,
These fisher-folk who passed their anxious days
In fierce Atlantic ways;
And found not there,
Beneath the long curled wave,
So quiet a grave.

And they sleep well,
These peasant-folk, who told their lives away,
From day to market-day,
As one should tell,
With patient industry,
Some sad old rosary.

And now night falls,
Me, tempest-tost, and driven from pillar to post,
A poor worn ghost,
This quiet pasture calls;
And...Read more of this...

In Tempore Senectutis

 When I am old,
And sadly steal apart,
Into the dark and cold,
Friend of my heart!
Remember, if you can,
Not him who lingers, but that other man,
Who loved and sang, and had a beating heart, -- 
When I am old!

When I am old,
And all Love's ancient fire
Be tremulous and cold:
My soul's desire!
Remember, if you may,
Nothing of you and me but yesterday,
When heart...Read more of this...

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 shrine, 
And all the tale of love was told: 
Ah, God, that sweet things should decline, 
And fires fade out...Read more of this...

Non Sum Qualis Eram Bonae Sub Regno Cynarae

 Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine 
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed 
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine; 
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion, 
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head: 
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion. 

All night upon mine...Read more of this...

Nuns Of The Perpetual Adoration

 Calm, sad, secure; behind high convent walls,
 These watch the sacred lamp, these watch and pray:
And it is one with them when evening falls,
 And one with them the cold return of day.

These heed not time; their nights and days they make
 Into a long returning rosary,
Whereon their lives are threaded for Christ's sake;
 Meekness and vigilance and chastity.

A...Read more of this...

The Moon Maidens Song

 Sleep! Cast thy canopy 
 Over this sleeper's brain, 
Dim grow his memory, 
 When he wake again. 

Love stays a summer night, 
 Till lights of morning come; 
Then takes her winged flight 
 Back to her starry home. 

Sleep! Yet thy days are mine; 
 Love's seal is over thee: 
Far though my ways from thine, 
...Read more of this...

To One In Bedlam

 With delicate, mad hands, behind his sordid bars,
Surely he hath his posies, which they tear and twine;
Those scentless wisps of straw, that miserably line
His strait, caged universe, whereat the dull world stares,

Pedant and pitiful. O, how his rapt gaze wars
With their stupidity! Know they what dreams divine
Lift his long, laughing reveries like enchanted wine,
And make his melancholy germane to...Read more of this...

Vitae Summa Brevis Spem Nos Vetat Incohare Longam

 They are not long, the weeping and the laughter, 
 Love and desire and hate: 
I think they have no portion in us after 
 We pass the gate. 

They are not long, the days of wine and roses: 
 Out of a misty dream 
Our path emerges for a while, then closes 
 Within a dream. 


[The title...Read more of this...

What Is Love?

 What is Love? 
Is it a folly, 
Is it mirth, or melancholy? 
 Joys above, 
Are there many, or not any? 
 What is Love? 

 If you please, 
A most sweet folly! 
Full of mirth and melancholy: 
 Both of these! 
In its sadness worth all gladness, 
 If you please! 

 Prithee where, 
Goes Love a-hiding? 
Is...Read more of this...

Yvonne Of Brittany

 In your mother's apple-orchard,
Just a year ago, last spring:
Do you remember, Yvonne!
The dear trees lavishing
Rain of their starry blossoms
To make you a coronet?
Do you ever remember, Yvonne,
As I remember yet?

In your mother's apple-orchard,
When the world was left behind:
You were shy, so shy, Yvonne!
But your eyes were calm and kind.
We spoke of the apple harvest,
When the cider press is set,
And...Read more of this...