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Venite Descendamus Post by :goldfunds Category :Poems Author :Ernest Dowson Date :October 2011 Read :3680

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Venite Descendamus

Let be at last; give over words and sighing,
Vainly were all things said:
Better at last to find a place for lying,
Only dead.

Silence were best, with songs and sighing over;
Now be the music mute;
Now let the dead, red leaves of autumn cover
A vain lute.

Silence is best: for ever and for ever,
We will go down and sleep,
Somewhere beyond her ken, where she need never
Come to weep.

Let be at last: colder she grows and colder;
Sleep and the night were best;
Lying at last where we cannot behold her,
We may rest.

(The end)
Ernest Dowson's poem: Venite Descendamus

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