Ernest Christopher Dowson

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

Ernest Christopher Dowson Poems

1. Jadis 12/31/2002
2. In Spring 4/19/2010
3. Saint Germain-En-Laye 4/19/2010
4. Terre Promise 4/19/2010
5. On The Birth Of A Friend's Child 4/19/2010
6. To His Mistress 4/19/2010
7. Venite Descendamus 4/19/2010
8. Vanitas 4/19/2010
9. Villanelle Of Acheron 4/19/2010
10. Villanelle Of Marguerite's 4/19/2010
11. Quid Non Supremus, Amantes? 4/19/2010
12. Rondeau 4/19/2010
13. The Dead Child 4/19/2010
14. Sapientia Lunae 4/19/2010
15. Seraphita 4/19/2010
16. Soli Cantare Periti Arcades 4/19/2010
17. My Lady April 4/19/2010
18. Flos Lunae 4/19/2010
19. Impentitent Ultima 4/19/2010
20. Carthusians 4/19/2010
21. A Valediction 4/19/2010
22. A Coronal 4/19/2010
23. A Requiem 4/19/2010
24. Exchanges 12/31/2002
25. To One In Bedlam 12/31/2002
26. This Libation, Cupid, Take 1/3/2003
27. Yvonne Of Brittany 12/31/2002
28. Breton Afternoon 4/19/2010
29. Extreme Unction 4/19/2010
30. Moritura 4/19/2010
31. To William Theodore Peters On His Renaissance Cloak 4/19/2010
32. Transition 4/19/2010
33. To A Lost Love 4/19/2010
34. To A Lady Asking Foolish Questions 4/19/2010
35. The Sea-Change 4/19/2010
36. Benedictio Domini 4/19/2010
37. Dregs 4/19/2010
38. Exile 4/19/2010
39. The Garden Of Shadow 1/3/2003
40. Villanelle 1/3/2003
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

Epigram

Because I am idolotrous and have besought
With grievous supplication and consuming prayer,
The admirable image that my love has wrought
Out of her swan's neck and her dark, abundant hair:
The jealous gods who brook no worship save their own,
Turned my live idol marble and her heart to stone.

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