Poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson

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All that I had I brought,
Little enough I know;
A poor rhyme roughly wrought,
A rose to match thy snow:
All that I had I brought.

Little enough I sought:
But a word compassionate,
A passing glance, or thought,
For me outside the gate:
Little enough I sought.

Little enough I found:
All that you had, perchance!
With the dead leaves on the ground,
I dance the devil's dance.
All that you had I found.

1. To a Lady Asking Foolish Questions
2. Yvonne of Brittany
3. Ad Manus Puellae
4. Nuns of the Perpetual Adoration
5. Growth

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