Author:
jim clark..London..England
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Date Posted: 02:35:12 11/12/02 Tue
Ernest Dowson was born in Kent in England, educated at Oxford though
he left without taking a degree. He joined the Rhymer's club and
contributed poems to The Yellow Book and The Savoy. In 1891 he met
Adelaide Foltinowicz, a restaurateur's daughter, then aged 12 and she
became a symbol of love and innocence some of his verse. He courted
her for 2 years but when she came of age she married a waiter who
worked in her father's restaurant! His parents committed suicide
within a few months of each other in 1895 and afterwards he wandered
aimlessly between England, France and Ireland. He was a friend of W B
Yeats, who described him as 'timid, silent and a little melancholy'.
He died of alcoholism in 1900 at the early age of 33...It has been
said that in this Dowsons most famous poem he was reflecting on a
relationship with a prostitute....and heres the link to the page with the sound poem...
http://groups.msn.com/acousticmusiciansandpoetssoundarchive/poetrysounds.msnw?action=get_message&mview=1&ID_Message=182
Regards..
Jim Clark...
All rights are reserved on this sound recording/copyright/patent Jim
Clark 2002
Non Sum Qualis eram Bonae Sub Regno Cynarae
('I am no more the man I was in the reign of the Good Cynara')
Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was gray:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
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