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A poem by Ernest Dowson |
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Spleen |
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Title: Spleen Author: Ernest Dowson [More Titles by Dowson] I was not sorrowful, I could not weep, I watched the river grow more white and strange, All day till evening I watched the rain I was not sorrowful, but only tired Her lips, her eyes, all day became to me All day mine hunger for her heart became And left me sorrowful, inclined to weep, [The end] GO TO TOP OF SCREEN |