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1867–1900

GRAY NIGHTS

Ernest Christopher Dowson

A while we wandered ( thus it is I dream! ) Through a long, sandy track of No Man's Land, Where only poppies grew among the sand, The which we, plucking, cast with scant esteem,

And ever sadlier, into the sad stream, Which followed us, as we went, hand in hand, Under the estranged stars, a road unplanned, Seeing all things in the shadow of a dream.

And ever sadlier, as the stars expired, We found the poppies rarer, till thine eyes Grown all my light, to light me were too tired, And at their darkening, that no surmise

Might haunt me of the lost days we desired, After them all I flung those memories!

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GRAY NIGHTS · Ernest Christopher Dowson · Poetry Cove