Report, if you have a problem with this page“ Ah, Lalage! while life is ours, Hoard not thy beauty rose and white, But pluck the pretty fleeing flowers That deck our little path of light: For all too soon we twain shall tread The bitter pastures of the dead: Estranged, sad spectres of the night. ”
Ernest Dowson
From : The Poems and Prose of Ernest Dowson
