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Ernest Dowson

All that I had I brought, 
   Little enough I know; 
A poor rhyme roughly wrought, 
   A rose to match thy snow: 
All that I had I brought. 

Little enough I sought: 
   But a word compassionate, 
A passing glance, or thought, 
   For me outside the gate: 
Little enough I sought. 

Little enough I found: 
   All that you had, perchance! 
With the dead leaves on the ground, 
   I dance the devil's dance. 
All that you had I found.

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