The Poems and Prose of Ernest Dowson - With a memoir by Arthur Symons by Ernest Christopher Dowson
page 38 of 208 (18%)
page 38 of 208 (18%)
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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. SPLEEN I was not sorrowful, I could not weep, And all my memories were put to sleep. I watched the river grow more white and strange, All day till evening I watched it change. All day till evening I watched the rain Beat wearily upon the window pane. I was not sorrowful, but only tired Of everything that ever I desired. |
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