The Poems of Ernest Dowson

Index by First Line

A gift of Silence, sweet!

Ah, Manon, say, why is it we

A little while to walk with thee, dear child

All that a man may pray

All that I had I brought

All the moon-shed nights are over

Around were all the roses red

A song of the setting sun!

A while we wandered (thus it is I dream!)

Because I am idolatrous and have besought

Before my light goes out for ever if God...

Beyond the need of weeping

Beyond the pale of memory

By the pale marge of Acheron

By the sad waters of separation

Calm, sad, secure; behind high convent walls

Cease smiling, Dear! a little while be sad

The cherry-coloured velvet of your cloak

Come hither, Child! and rest

Come not before me now, 0 visionary face!

Dew on her robe and on her tangled hair

Erewhile, before the world was old

Even now the fragrant darkness of her hair

Exceeding sorrow

The fire is out, and spent the warmth thereof

Goddess the laughter-loving, Aphrodite, befriend!

Here, where the breath of the scented-gorse floats...

If we must part

In the deep violet air

In your mother’s apple-orchard

I said: “There is an end of my desire

I took her dainty eyes, as well

I was always a lover of ladies’ hands!

I was not sorrowful, I could not weep

I watched the glory of her childhood change

I would not alter thy cold eyes

Into the lonely park all frozen fast

I seek no more to bridge the gulf that lies

Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine

Let be at last; give over words and sighing

Let us go hence: the night is now at hand

Little lady of my heart!

“A little, passionately, not at all?”

Love heeds no more the sighing of the wind

Love’s aftermath! I think the time is now

Love wine and beauty and the spring

Mark the day white, on which the Fates have smiled

Neobule, being tired

Oh, I would live in a dairy

Pale amber sunlight falls across

See how the trees and the osiers lithe

Shall one be sorrowful because of love

The sky is up above the roof

Sleep on, dear, now

Sometimes, to solace my sad heart, I say

Strange grows the river on the sunless evenings!

Tears fall within mine heart

There comes an end to summer

The wisdom of the world said unto me

They are not long, the weeping and the laughter

They sleep well here

Through the green boughs I hardly saw thy face

Through what long heaviness, assayed in what strange fire

Upon the eyes, the lips, the feet

Violets and leaves of vine

We have walked in Love’s land a little way

What land of Silence

When this, our rose, is faded

Where river and ocean meet in a great tempestuous frown

With delicate, mad hands, behind his sordid bars

Without, the sullen noises of the street!

Why am I sorry, Chloe? Because the moon is far

Why is there in the least touch of her hands

Wine and woman and song

You would have understood me, had you waited

Webpage © 2002 ELC
Lane Core Jr. (lane@elcore.net)

http://poetry.elcore.net/CatholicPoets/Dowson/V_D_FirstLine.html
Created November 18, 2002; revised December 22, 2002.