Who is Ernest Dowson
Ernest Christopher Dowson (2 August 1867 – 23 February 1900) was an English poet, novelist, and short-story writer who is often associated with the Decadent movement.Biography
Ernest Dowson was born in Lee, then in Kent, in 1867. His great-uncle was Alfred Domett, a Prime Minister of New Zealand. Dowson attended The Queen's College, Oxford, but left in March 1888 without obtaining a degree.In November 1888 Dowson started work at Dowson & Son, his father's dry-docking business in Limehouse, East London. He led an active social life, carousing with medical students and law pupils, visiting music halls, and taking the performers to dinner.
Dowson was a member of the Rhymers' Club, and a contributor to literary magazines such as The Yellow Book and The Savo...
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Ernest Dowson Poems
- Yvonne Of Brittany
In your mother's apple-orchard,
Just a year ago, last spring:
Do you remember, Yvonne!
The dear trees lavishing... - You Would Have Understood Me, Had You Waited
Ah, dans ces mornes sèjours
Les jamais sont les toujours
Paul Verlaine
... - What Is Love?
What is Love?
Is it a folly,
Is it mirth, or melancholy?
Joys above,... - Vitæ Summa Brevis Spem Nos Vetat Incohare Longam
They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,
Love and desire and hate:
I think they have no portion in us after
We pass the gate.... - Villanelle Of Sunset
Come hither, Child! and rest:
This is the end of day,
Behold the weary West!
...
Top 10 most used topics by Ernest Dowson
Love 25 I Love You 25 Long 19 Heart 19 Night 14 Life 14 Sweet 14 World 12 Time 11 Cold 11Ernest Dowson Quotes
Comments about Ernest Dowson
Thegoodestbuck: my favourite actual poem is a last word by ernest dowson.Plantingtheoar: they are not long, the weeping & the laughter love & desire & hate: i think they have no portion in us after we pass the gate they are not long the days of wine & roses: out of a misty dream our path emerges for a while, then closes within a dream ernest dowson (1867 - 1900)
Penicillinmag: the cock in shaftesbury avenue - where ernest dowson wrote 'cynara', my favourite poem in the english language - now mr wu's chinese buffet
Telescoper: "the golden wine is drunk, the dregs remain, bitter as wormwood and as salt as pain; and health and hope have gone the way of love into the drear oblivion of lost things." - ernest dowson
Jackmanfred2: they are not long, the days of wine and roses: out of a misty dream our path emerges for a while, then closes within a dream. – ernest dowson,
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