The path of life, does it go to, who to say it? What the purpose of living? What is life, what to say about it, if it is a dream lived with wine and roses? Love, desire, weeping, laughter and hate, all are for the time being and after that the things take a drastic change.The reality of life, none has known and none will be able to get at. (After reading his poem, They Are Not Long)

..and a posthumous Happy Birthday this coming Sunday...

i had sought out the gravesite many years ago (Plot #H-8, I believe it was) , and was, too, saddened that it had obviously been unattended for seemingly a long time; if Piecat Lady's right, I'll also be glad. I don't believe he was credited for'Days of Wine & Roses' - but could be wrong; but I'm confident Pat Boone had never heard of his April Love. I've long felt he was respected by Oscar Wilde, and their meeting in Dieppe seems to bear that out. Requiescat in Pace (from One in Bedlam) .

I found out about this poet because of the late great Christopher Hitchens!

Reading Dowson's touching poetry, learning of his sad life, I'm glad his grave site has been restored. Years ago, found his poem to Cynara that inspired Margaret Mitchell's title Gone With the Wind. (The movie didn't acknowledge the poem.) What a memorable paean to passion lost and time passing. Matches my earliest experiences with love. Dancing, to put thy pale lost lilies out of mind. And it never quite works.

I stumbled across Ernest Dowson's grave,1867-1900 at Ladywell cemetry. This is in south east london se4 and is a very pretty overgrown space.