Poems List
Apologia
Barter my cloth of gold for hodden grey,
And at thy pleasure weave that web of pain
Whose brightest threads are each a wasted day?
Is it thy will - Love that I love so well -
That my Soul's House should be a tortured spot
Wherein, like evil paramours, must dwell
The quenchless flame, the worm that dieth not?
Nay, if it be thy will I shall endure,
And sell ambition at the common mart,
And let dull failure be my vestiture,
And sorrow dig its grave within my heart.
Perchance it may be better so - at least
I have not made my heart a heart of stone,
Nor starved my boyhood of its goodly feast,
Nor walked where Beauty is a thing unknown.
Many a man hath done so; sought to fence
In straitened bonds the soul that should be free,
Trodden the dusty road of common sense,
While all the forest sang of liberty,
Not marking how the spotted hawk in flight
Passed on wide pinion through the lofty air,
To where some steep untrodden mountain height
Caught the last tresses of the Sun God's hair.
Or how the little flower he trod upon,
The daisy, that white-feathered shield of gold,
Followed with wistful eyes the wandering sun
Content if once its leaves were aureoled.
But surely it is something to have been
The best beloved for a little while,
To have walked hand in hand with Love, and seen
His purple wings flit once across thy smile.
Ay! though the gorged asp of passion feed
On my boy's heart, yet have I burst the bars,
Stood face to face with Beauty, known indeed
The Love which moves the Sun and all the stars!
Amor Intellectualis
And heard sweet notes of sylvan music blown
From antique reeds to common folk unknown:
And often launched our bark upon that sea
Which the nine Muses hold in empery,
And ploughed free furrows through the wave and foam,
Nor spread reluctant sail for more safe home
Till we had freighted well our argosy.
Of which despoiled treasures these remain,
Sordello's passion, and the honeyed line
Of young Endymion, lordly Tamburlaine
Driving his pampered jades, and more than these,
The seven-fold vision of the Florentine,
And grave-browed Milton's solemn harmonies.
Urbs Sacra Æterna
ROME! what a scroll of History thine has been
In the first days thy sword republican
Ruled the whole world for many an age's span:
Then of thy peoples thou wert crownèd Queen,
Till in thy streets the bearded Goth was seen;
And now upon thy walls the breezes fan
(Ah, city crowned by God, discrowned by man!)
The hated flag of red and white and green.
When was thy glory! when in search for power
Thine eagles flew to greet the double sun,
And all the nations trembled at thy rod?
Nay, but thy glory tarried for this hour,
When pilgrims kneel before the Holy One,
The prisoned shepherd of the Church of God.
Tristitiae
O well for him who lives at ease
With garnered gold in wide domain,
Nor heeds the splashing of the rain,
The crashing down of forest trees.
O well for him who ne'er hath known
The travail of the hungry years,
A father grey with grief and tears,
A mother weeping all alone.
But well for him whose foot hath trod
The weary road of toil and strife,
Yet from the sorrows of his life.
Builds ladders to be nearer God.
Theocritus - A Villanelle
O singer of Persephone!
In the dim meadows desolate
Dost thou remember Sicily?
Still through the ivy flits the bee
Where Amaryllis lies in state;
O Singer of Persephone!
Simaetha calls on Hecate
And hears the wild dogs at the gate;
Dost thou remember Sicily?
Still by the light and laughing sea
Poor Polypheme bemoans his fate;
O Singer of Persephone!
And still in boyish rivalry
Young Daphnis challenges his mate;
Dost thou remember Sicily?
Slim Lacon keeps a goat for thee,
For thee the jocund shepherds wait;
O Singer of Persephone!
Dost thou remember Sicily?
To Milton
MILTON! I think thy spirit hath passed away
From these white cliffs, and high-embattled towers;
This gorgeous fiery-coloured world of ours
Seems fallen into ashes dull and grey,
And the age changed unto a mimic play
Wherein we waste our else too-crowded hours:
For all our pomp and pageantry and powers
We are but fit to delve the common clay,
Seeing this little isle on which we stand,
This England, this sea-lion of the sea,
By ignorant demagogues is held in fee,
Who love her not: Dear God! is this the land
Which bare a triple empire in her hand
When Cromwell spake the word Democracy!
The New Remorse
The sin was mine; I did not understand.
So now is music prisoned in her cave,
Save where some ebbing desultory wave
Frets with its restless whirls this meagre strand.
And in the withered hollow of this land
Hath Summer dug herself so deep a grave,
That hardly can the leaden willow crave
One silver blossom from keen Winter's hand.
But who is this who cometh by the shore?
(Nay, love, look up and wonder!) Who is this
Who cometh in dyed garments from the South?
It is thy new-found Lord, and he shall kiss
The yet unravished roses of thy mouth,
And I shall weep and worship, as before.
The True Knowledge
Thou knowest all; I seek in vain
What lands to till or sow with seed -
The land is black with briar and weed,
Nor cares for falling tears or rain.
Thou knowest all; I sit and wait
With blinded eyes and hands that fail,
Till the last lifting of the veil
And the first opening of the gate.
Thou knowest all; I cannot see.
I trust I shall not live in vain,
I know that we shall meet again
In some divine eternity.
The Grave Of Keats
RID of the world's injustice, and his pain,
He rests at last beneath God's veil of blue:
Taken from life when life and love were new
The youngest of the martyrs here is lain,
Fair as Sebastian, and as early slain.
No cypress shades his grave, no funeral yew,
But gentle violets weeping with the dew
Weave on his bones an ever-blossoming chain.
O proudest heart that broke for misery!
O sweetest lips since those of Mitylene!
O poet-painter of our English Land!
Thy name was writ in water----it shall stand:
And tears like mine will keep thy memory green,
As Isabella did her Basil-tree.
The Harlot's House
We caught the tread of dancing feet,
We loitered down the moonlit street,
And stopped beneath the harlot's house.
Inside, above the din and fray,
We heard the loud musicians play
The "Treues Liebes Herz" of Strauss.
Like strange mechanical grotesques,
Making fantastic arabesques,
The shadows raced across the blind.
We watched the ghostly dancers spin
To sound of horn and violin,
Like black leaves wheeling in the wind.
Like wire-pulled automatons,
Slim silhouetted skeletons
Went sidling through the slow quadrille.
They took each other by the hand,
And danced a stately saraband;
Their laughter echoed thin and shrill.
Sometimes a clockwork puppet pressed
A phantom lover to her breast,
Sometimes they seemed to try to sing.
Sometimes a horrible marionette
Came out, and smaoked its cigarette
Upon the steps like a live thing.
Then, turning to my love, I said,
"The dead are dancing with the dead,
The dust is whirling with the dust."
But she--she heard the violin,
And left my side, and entered in:
Love passed into the house of lust.
Then suddenly the tune went false,
The shadows wearied of the waltz,
The shadows ceased to wheel and whirl.
And down the long and silent street,
The dawn, with silver-sandalled feet,
Crept like a frightened girl.
Comments (0)
NoComments
Oscar Wilde documentary
Who is Oscar Wilde? Your 5 minute History Lesson
Oscar Wilde Biography: His "Wild" Life
LITERATURE - Oscar Wilde
Ricky Gervais On The Genius Of Oscar Wilde | Universal Comedy
Oscar Wilde Didn't Get Famous For The Reason You Think [Shorts]
The Trials of Oscar Wilde 1960 Peter Finch
Oscar Wilde | An Ideal Husband 1947 | Paulette Goddard, Michael Wilding, Diana Wynyard | Full Movie
The Importance of Being Earnest - Oscar Wilde - So You Haven't Read
Would Oscar Wilde be cancelled today?
How Oscar Wilde Ruined It For Gay Victorians Everywhere
The WILD Life of OSCAR WILDE
Oscar Wilde, Brilliant Quotes Which Are Better Known In Youth To Not Regret In Old Age
Oscar Wilde - Leading a Double Life | Biography
A Sleepy Reading of Oscar Wilde's 'The Model Millionaire'
Top 10 Reasons to Love Oscar Wilde
Company of Thieves - Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde Biography
Oscar Wilde himself (documentary)
OSCAR WILDE HAYAT HİKAYESİ (Biyografi - Ünlü Yazarlar)
Sotul Ideal (1958) - Oscar Wilde
Wilde (1997) - Stephen Fry as Oscar Wilde - Queensberry's card
Stephen Fry on Oscar Wilde | The Meaning of Life with Gay Byrne | RTÉ One
Lady Windermere's Fan (2014) | Full Movie | Oscar Wilde
Is Art Useless? / Reading Oscar Wilde's Preface Together
THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY BY OSCAR WILDE // ANIMATED BOOK SUMMARY
THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST by Oscar Wilde 🎧📖 FULL AudioBook | Greatest🌟AudioBooks
Oscar Wilde caught on camera on Paris Expo 1900????
What Did Oscar Wilde's Voice Sound Like?
Oscar Wilde: The World's First Celebrity
Quotes by Oscar Wilde for a deeper understanding of this world.
RESEÑA: El retrato de Dorian Gray, de Oscar Wilde | Arcade's Books
Oscar Wilde came to America because he wanted to sleep with Walt Whitman, and then did exactly that
Oscar Wilde Documentary
La trágica vida de OSCAR WILDE y su triángulo amoroso con BRAM STOKER | moonlight books
Oscar Wilde - The Picture of Dorian Gray BOOK REVIEW
Oscar Wilde: El ascenso y la caída de un artista
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde in hindi summary
Pawn Stars: WILDLY RARE Oscar Wilde First Edition (Season 11) | History
Wilde (1997) - Stephen Fry as Oscar Wilde - Trial - The love that dare not speak its name
Oscar Wilde - Prečo je dobré mať Filipa (rozhlasová hra / 2005 / slovensky)
Oscar Wilde biografía y la historia del amor que le arruinó la vida
Oscar Wilde - Biografia
Oscar Wilde (1854-1900) Da beleza ao escândalo
Company of Thieves - Oscar Wilde - Audiotree Live
The Canterville Ghost by Oscar Wilde | Audiobooks Youtube Free
El ruiseñor y la rosa. Un cuento de Oscar Wilde. Audiolibro completo voz humana real.
O RETRATO DE DORIAN GRAY, DE OSCAR WILDE (#109)
Wilde Trailer
MLUVENÉ SLOVO Wilde, Oscar Zločin lorda Arthura Savila KOMEDIE