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Poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson


Beyond


Love's aftermath! I think the time is now
That we must gather in, alone, apart
The saddest crop of all the crops that grow,
Love's aftermath.
Ah, sweet,--sweet yesterday, the tears that start
Can not put back the dial; this is, I trow,
Our harvesting! Thy kisses chill my heart,
Our lips are cold; averted eyes avow
The twilight of poor love: we can but part,
Dumbly and sadly, reaping as we sow,
Love's aftermath. 



Ernest Christopher Dowson


Ernest Christopher Dowson's other poems:
  1. Quid Non Supremus, Amantes?
  2. Epigram
  3. Vain Resolves
  4. Amor Umbratilis
  5. Villanelle of Marguerite's


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Katharine Bates Beyond ("COLOSSAL orb of space")
  • Madison Cawein Beyond ("Hangs stormed with stars the night")
  • Ella Wilcox Beyond ("It seemeth such a little way to me")

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