Exile Poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
Exile
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.
In music I have no consolation,
No roses are pale enough for me;
The sound of the waters of separation
Surpasseth roses and melody.
By the sad waters of separation
Dimly I hear from an hidden place
The sigh of mine ancient adoration:
Hardly can I remember your face.
If you be dead, no proclamation
Sprang to me over the waste, gray sea:
Living, the waters of separation
Sever for ever your soul from me.
No man knoweth our desolation;
Memory pales of the old delight;
While the sad waters of separation
Bear us on to the ultimate night.
the sad waters of separation Bear us unto the ultimate night Superb conceptualization.
True nature of pain of separation, elegantly expressed. A memorable poem, indeed. Thanks for sharing. X
Desolation! ! Withthe the muse of life. Thanks for sharing.
Sadness is dripping thick from lines. In music I have no consolation, No roses are pale enough for me; The sound of the waters of separation Surpasseth roses and melody. ... Nothing seems interest to the poet due to separation. Nice.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/20/2026 7:54:29 PM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
Such an interesting poem about sadness.... thanks for posting......