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Ernest Christopher Dowson (Эрнест Кристофер Доусон)


In A Breton Cemetery


They sleep well here,
These fisher-folk who passed their anxious days
In fierce Atlantic ways;
And found not there,
Beneath the long curled wave,
So quiet a grave.

And they sleep well,
These peasant-folk, who told their lives away,
From day to market-day,
As one should tell,
With patient industry,
Some sad old rosary.

And now night falls,
Me, tempest-tost, and driven from pillar to post,
A poor worn ghost,
This quiet pasture calls;
And dear dead people with pale hands
Beckon me to their lands. 



Ernest Christopher Dowson's other poems:
  1. Amantium Irae
  2. Jadis
  3. Ad Domnulam Suam
  4. Growth
  5. Villanelle of His Lady’s Treasures


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