Beyond
Ernest Dowson
1867 to 1900
Love's aftermath! I think the time is now
That we must gather in, alone, apart
The saddest crop of all the crops that grow,
Love's aftermath.
Ah, sweet,-sweet yesterday, the tears that start
Can not put back the dial; this is, I trow,
Our harvesting! Thy kisses chill my heart,
Our lips are cold; averted eyes avow
The twilight of poor love: we can but part,
Dumbly and sadly, reaping as we sow,
Love's aftermath.
Ernest Dowson's Beyond
I am busy working to bring Ernest Dowson's "Beyond" to life through some unique musical arrangements and will have a full analysis of the poem here for you later.
In the meantime, I invite you to explore the poem's themes, structure, and meaning. You can also check out the home page for other musical arrangements or learn more about Ernest Dowson's life and contributions to literature.
Check back soon to experience how "Beyond" transforms when verse meets melody—a unique journey that makes poetry accessible, engaging, and profoundly moving in new ways.
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