EXCHANGES

By Ernest Christopher 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.