I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
Ernest DowsonI have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng
Ernest DowsonI understand that absinthe makes the tart grow fonder.
Ernest DowsonO pray the earth enfoldOur life-sick hearts and turn them into dust.
Ernest DowsonTheyare not long, the days of wine and roses: Out of a misty dream Our path emerges for a while, then closes Within a dream.
Ernest DowsonI 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.
Ernest Dowson