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Poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
I watched the glory of her childhood change, Half-sorrowful to find the child I knew, (Loved long ago in lily-time), Become a maid, mysterious and strange, With fair, pure eyes - dear eyes, but not the eyes I knew Of old, in the olden time! Till on my doubting soul the ancient good Of her dear childhood in the new disguise Dawned, and I hastened to adore The glory of her waking maidenhead, And found the old tenderness within her deepening eyes, But kinder than before.
Ernest Christopher Dowson
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