Ernest Christopher Dowson Poems

By the sad waters of separation
Where we have wandered by divers ways,
I have but the shadow and imitation
Of the old memorial days.
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Little lady of my heart !
Just a little longer,
Love me: we will pass and part,
Ere this love grow stronger.
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Exceeding sorrow
Consumeth my sad heart!
Because to-morrow
We must depart,
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If we must part,
Then let it be like this.
Not heart on heart,
Nor with the useless anguish of a kiss;
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Why am I sorry, Chloe? Because the moon is far:
And who am I to be straitened in a little earthly star?
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(For Arthur Symons)

I was not sorrowful, I could not weep,
And all my memories were put to sleep.
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Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
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When I am old,
And sadly steal apart,
Into the dark and cold,
Friend of my heart!
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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,
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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:
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