Poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson

Terre Promise

Even now the fragrant darkness of her hair
Had brushed my cheek; and once, in passing by,
Her hand upon my hand lay tranquilly:
What things unspoken trembled in the air!

Always I know, how little severs me
From mine heart's country, that is yet so far;
And must I lean and long across a bar,
That half a word would shatter utterly?

Ah might it be, that just by touch of hand,
Or speaking silence, shall the barrier fall;
And she shall pass, with no vain words at all,
But droop into mine arms, and understand! 

1. Quid Non Supremus, Amantes?
2. Epigram
3. Villanelle of Marguerite's
4. Vain Resolves
5. Soli Cantare Periti Arcades

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