LET us go hence : the night is now at hand ;
The day is overworn, the birds all flown,
And we have reaped the crops the gods have sown,
Despair and death ; deep darkness o’er the land
Broods like an owl : we cannot understand
Laughter or tears, for we have only known
Surpassing vanity ; vain things alone
Have driven our perverse and aimless band.
Let us go hence somewhither strange and cold,
To hollow lands, where just men and unjust
Find end of labour ; where ‘s rest for the old,
Freedom to all from fear and love and lust.
Twine our torn hands ! O, pray, the earth enfold
Our life-sick hearts and turn them into dust !
Ernest, Dowson. “Epilogue.” The Savoy vol. 7, November 1896, p. 87. Savoy Digital Edition, edited by Christopher Keep and Lorraine Janzen Kooistra, 2018-2020. Yellow Nineties 2.0, Ryerson University Centre for Digital Humanities, 2019. https://1890s.ca/savoyv7-dowson-epilogue/