Poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson

Growth

I watched the glory of her childhood change,
Half-sorrowful to find the child I knew,
(Loved long ago in lily-time),
Become a maid, mysterious and strange,
With fair, pure eyes - dear eyes, but not the eyes I knew
Of old, in the olden time!

Till on my doubting soul the ancient good
Of her dear childhood in the new disguise
Dawned, and I hastened to adore
The glory of her waking maidenhead,
And found the old tenderness within her deepening eyes,
But kinder than before. 

1. Epigram
2. Soli Cantare Periti Arcades
3. Breton Afternoon
4. Amantium Irae
5. Villanelle of Marguerite's

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