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I cried for madder music and for stronger wine, But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire, Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine.
Ernest Dowson -
I understand that absinthe makes the tart grow fonder.
Ernest Dowson
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Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine; And I was desolate and sick of an old passion, Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head: I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
Ernest Dowson -
Pale amber sunlight falls across The reddening October trees.... Are we not better and at home In dreamful Autumn, we who deem No harvest joy is worth a dream? A little while and night shall come, A little while, then, let us dream.
Ernest Dowson -
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.
Ernest Dowson -
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 -
O pray the earth enfold Our life-sick hearts and turn them into dust.
Ernest Dowson -
I cried for madder music and for stronger wine.
Ernest Dowson