Ernest Christopher Dowson

(2 August 1867 – 23 February 1900 / London / England)

Ernest Christopher Dowson Poems

1. Terre Promise 4/19/2010
2. Saint Germain-En-Laye 4/19/2010
3. Seraphita 4/19/2010
4. Vanitas 4/19/2010
5. The Dead Child 4/19/2010
6. Quid Non Supremus, Amantes? 4/19/2010
7. Flos Lunae 4/19/2010
8. Moritura 4/19/2010
9. Transition 4/19/2010
10. Venite Descendamus 4/19/2010
11. In Spring 4/19/2010
12. Soli Cantare Periti Arcades 4/19/2010
13. Villanelle Of Marguerite's 4/19/2010
14. To William Theodore Peters On His Renaissance Cloak 4/19/2010
15. Extreme Unction 4/19/2010
16. My Lady April 4/19/2010
17. Sapientia Lunae 4/19/2010
18. Vain Hope 4/19/2010
19. To A Lost Love 4/19/2010
20. Rondeau 4/19/2010
21. Villanelle Of Acheron 4/19/2010
22. The Sea-Change 4/19/2010
23. Villanelle Of His Lady’s Treasures 4/19/2010
24. Exile 4/19/2010
25. Impentitent Ultima 4/19/2010
26. Libera Me 4/19/2010
27. The Three Witches 4/19/2010
28. Villanelle Of Sunset 4/19/2010
29. Vesperal 4/19/2010
30. To His Mistress 4/19/2010
31. On The Birth Of A Friend's Child 4/19/2010
32. Villanelle 1/3/2003
33. A Valediction 4/19/2010
34. Carthusians 4/19/2010
35. Breton Afternoon 4/19/2010
36. After Paul Verlaine-Iii 4/19/2010
37. Dregs 4/19/2010
38. Benedictio Domini 4/19/2010
39. To One In Bedlam 12/31/2002
40. You Would Have Understood Me, Had You Waited 4/19/2010
Best Poem of Ernest Christopher Dowson

April Love

We have walked in Love's land a little way,
We have learnt his lesson a little while,
And shall we not part at the end of day,
With a sigh, a smile?

A little while in the shine of the sun,
We were twined together, joined lips forgot
How the shadows fall when day is done,
And when Love is not.

We have made no vows - there will none be broke,
Our love was free as the wind on the hill,
There was no word said we need wish unspoke,
We have wrought no ill.

So shall we not part at the end of day,
Who have loved and lingered a little while,
Join ...

Read the full of April Love

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

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