Who is Ernest Dowson

Ernest Christopher Dowson (2 August 1867 – 23 February 1900) was an English poet, novelist,

short-story writer, often associated with the Decadent movement.

Biography Ernest Dowson was born in Lee, London, in 1867. His great-uncle was Alfred Domett, a poet and politician who became Premier of New Zealand and had allegedly been the subject of Robert Browning's poem "Waring." Dowson attended The Queen's College, Oxford, but left in March 1888 without obtaining a degree.

In November 1888, he started work with his father at Dowson and Son, a dry-docking business in Limehouse, east London, which had been established by the poet's grandfather. He led an active social life, carousing with medical students and law pupils, going to...
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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 11


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Comments about Ernest Dowson

  • Elisabizzotto: five reasons everyone should know ernest dowson
  • Colemanridge: at the same time, i was in training to be an irish-american drunk, which included reading sentimental, self-pitying, gorgeous poems by ernest dowson, arthur symons, swinburne, d.g. rossetti, and lionel johnson. not quite the thing, i know, but damn. such gateway poems.
  • Jasmine_black13: they are not long - by ernest dowson
  • Getloast: "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. 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
  • Garvita2002: "let misty autumn be our part! the twilight of the year is sweet: where shadow and the darkness meet. our love, a twilight of the heart eludes a little time's deceit." —ernest dowson, autumnal, the poems and prose of ernest dowson
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Poem of the day

Edmund Spenser Poem
The Shepheardes Calender: August
 by Edmund Spenser

August: à?gloga Octaua. Willye. Perigot. Cuddie.

Willye.
Ell me Perigot, what shalbe the game,
Wherefore with myne thou dare thy musick matche?
Or bene thy Bagpypes renne farre out of frame?
Or hath the Crampe thy ioynts benomd with ache?
Perigot.
...

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