Love heeds no more the sighing of the wind
Against the perfect flowers: thy garden's close
Is grown a wilderness, where none shall find
One strayed, last petal of one last year's rose.
O bright, bright hair! O mouth like a ripe fruit!
Can famine be so nigh to harvesting?
Love, that was songful, with a broken lute
In grass of graveyards goeth murmuring.
Let the wind blow against the perfect flowers,
And all thy garden change and glow with spring:
Love is grown blind with no more count of hours
Nor part in seed-time nor in harvesting.
Back to Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Comments2Really enjoyed "The Garden of Shadow" poem. The part that stuck with me was "O bright, bright hair! O mouth like a ripe fruit!" This poem has such a melancholy feel, but it's beautifully written.
WOW, REALLY CAPTIVATED BY THE WHOLE LOVE AND LOSS THEME. THE DESOLATION AND HOPELESSNESS ARE PALPABLE WHILE READING. VERY TOUCHING.