by Ernest Christopher Dowson
A song of the setting sun !
The sky in the west is red
And the day is all but done
While yonder up overhead
All too soon,
There rises so cold the cynic moon
A song of winter day
The wind of the north doth blow
From a sky that’s chill and gray,
On fields where no crops now grow
Fields long shorn
Of bearded barley and golden corn
A song of faded flower!
Twas flucked in the tender bud
And fair and fresh for an hour
In a lady’s hair it stood
Now ah ! Now
Faded it lies in the dust and low
DIarsipkan di bawah: Art, Poem | Ditandai: Ernest Christopher Dowson
