Book
2
The Hollow Lands
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 love and
fear and lust.
Twine our torn hands! O pray the
earth enfold
Our life-sick hearts and turn
them into dust.
ERNEST DOWSON
A Last Word
1899