Spleen
Ernest Dowson
1867 to 1900
I was not sorrowful, i could not weep,
And all my memories were put to sleep.
I watched the river grow more white and strange,
All day till evening I watched it change.
All day till evening I watched the rain
Beat wearily upon the window pane.
I was not sorrowful, but only tired
Of everything that ever I desired.
Her lips, her eyes, all day became to me
The shadow of a shadow utterly.
All day mine hunger for her heart became
Oblivion, until the evening came,
And left me sorrowful, inclined to weep,
With all my memories that could not sleep.
Ernest Dowson's Spleen
I am busy working to bring Ernest Dowson's "Spleen" to life through some unique musical arrangements and will have a full analysis of the poem here for you later.
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