Ernest Christopher Dowson

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

Ernest Christopher Dowson Poems

81. April Love 12/31/2002

Comments about Ernest Christopher Dowson

  • Joe Ruane (7/30/2015 7:53:00 PM)

    i had sought out the gravesite many years ago (Plot #H-8, I believe it was) , and was, too, saddened that it had obviously been unattended for seemingly a long time; if Piecat Lady's right, I'll also be glad. I don't believe he was credited for'Days of Wine & Roses' - but could be wrong; but I'm confident Pat Boone had never heard of his April Love. I've long felt he was respected by Oscar Wilde, and their meeting in Dieppe seems to bear that out. Requiescat in Pace (from One in Bedlam) .

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  • Marko Duvnjak (1/24/2015 12:42:00 AM)

    I found out about this poet because of the late great Christopher Hitchens!

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  • Piecat Lady (11/23/2014 2:02:00 PM)

    Reading Dowson's touching poetry, learning of his sad life, I'm glad his grave site has been restored. Years ago, found his poem to Cynara that inspired Margaret Mitchell's title Gone With the Wind. (The movie didn't acknowledge the poem.) What a memorable paean to passion lost and time passing. Matches my earliest experiences with love. Dancing, to put thy pale lost lilies out of mind. And it never quite works.

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  • Peter Kennelly (10/21/2007 3:00:00 PM)

    I stumbled across Ernest Dowson's grave,1867-1900 at Ladywell cemetry. This is in south east london se4 and is a very pretty overgrown space.

    6 person liked.
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Best Poem of Ernest Christopher Dowson

Non Sum Qualis Eram Bonae Sub Regno Cynarae

Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.

All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was gray:
I have ...

Read the full of Non Sum Qualis Eram Bonae Sub Regno Cynarae

Beyond

Love's aftermath! I think the time is now
That we must gather in, alone, apart
The saddest crop of all the crops that grow,
Love's aftermath.
Ah, sweet,--sweet yesterday, the tears that start
Can not put back the dial; this is, I trow,
Our harvesting! Thy kisses chill my heart,
Our lips are cold; averted eyes avow
The twilight of poor love: we can but part,