written by Oscar WildeWith a Copy of My Poems
I can write no stately proem
As a prelude to my lay;
From a poet to a poem
I would dare to say.
For if of these fallen petals
One to you seem fair,
Love will waft it till it settles
On your hair.
And when wind and winter harden
All the loveless land,
It will whisper of the garden,
You will understand.
Oscar Wilde
written by Oscar Wilde, published on Mon 04.30.2007 at 02:50
TO stab my youth with desperate knives, to wear
This paltry age's gaudy livery,
To let each base hand filch my treasury,
written by Oscar Wilde, published on Sun 04.01.2007 at 06:03
IS it thy will that I should wax and wane,
Barter my cloth of gold for hodden grey,
And at thy pleasure weave that web of pain
written by Oscar Wilde, published on Tue 03.13.2007 at 23:19
THE silent room, the heavy creeping shade,
The dead that travel fast, the opening door,
written by Oscar Wilde, published on Sun 02.11.2007 at 10:28
WAS this His coming! I had hoped to see
A scene of wondrous glory, as was told
Of some great God who in a rain of gold
written by Oscar Wilde, published on Wed 02.07.2007 at 12:12
AS one who poring on a Grecian urn
Scans the fair shapes some Attic hand hath made,
