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1867–1900

SPLEEN

Ernest Christopher Dowson

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.

Her lips, her eyes, all day became to me The shadow of a shadow utterly. All day mine hunger for her heart became Oblivion, until the evening came,

And left me sorrowful, inclined to weep, With all my memories that could not sleep.

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SPLEEN · Ernest Christopher Dowson · Poetry Cove