|ELCore.Net > Poetry > Catholic Poets > Poems of Ernest Dowson|
|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 oer 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 perverse and aimless band.
Let us go hence, somewhither strange and cold,|
To Hollow Lands where just men and unjust
Find end of labour, wheres rest for the old,
Freedom to all from love and fear and lust.
Twine our torn hands! O pray the earth enfold
Our life-sick hearts and turn them into dust.
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Lane Core Jr. (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Created November 13, 2002; not revised.