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Poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
All that I had I brought, Little enough I know; A poor rhyme roughly wrought, A rose to match thy snow: All that I had I brought. Little enough I sought: But a word compassionate, A passing glance, or thought, For me outside the gate: Little enough I sought. Little enough I found: All that you had, perchance! With the dead leaves on the ground, I dance the devil's dance. All that you had I found.
Ernest Christopher Dowson
Ernest Christopher Dowson's other poems:
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