Ernest Christopher Dowson

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

In A Breton Cemetery - Poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson

They sleep well here,
These fisher-folk who passed their anxious days
In fierce Atlantic ways;
And found not there,
Beneath the long curled wave,
So quiet a grave.

And they sleep well,
These peasant-folk, who told their lives away,
From day to market-day,
As one should tell,
With patient industry,
Some sad old rosary.

And now night falls,
Me, tempest-tost, and driven from pillar to post,
A poor worn ghost,
This quiet pasture calls;
And dear dead people with pale hands
Beckon me to their lands.


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Read poems about / on: sleep, sad, people, night



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002



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