Poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson

Jadis

Erewhile, before the world was old,
When violets grew and celandine,
In Cupid's train we were enrolled:
           Erewhile!
Your little hands were clasped in mine,
Your head all ruddy and sun-gold
Lay on my breast which was your shrine,
And all the tale of love was told:
Ah, God, that sweet things should decline,
And fires fade out which were not cold,
           Erewhile.

1. To a Lady Asking Foolish Questions
2. On the Birth of a Friend's Child
3. Villanelle of Sunset
4. A Requiem
5. The Dead Child

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