Posted by: W. E. Poplaski | December 9, 2008


by Ernest Dowson (1867 – 1900).




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                            5

      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 maidenhood,                                                              10

And found the old tenderness within her deepening eyes,

      But kinder than before. 



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