written by Oscar WildeI STOOD by the unvintageable sea
Till the wet waves drenched face and hair with spray,
The long red fires of the dying day
Burned in the west; the wind piped drearily;
And to the land the clamorous gulls did flee:
'Alas!' I cried, 'my life is full of pain,
And who can garner fruit or golden grain,
From these waste fields which travail ceaselessly!'
My nets gaped wide with many a break and flaw
Nathless I threw them as my final cast
Into the sea, and waited for the end.
When lo! a sudden glory! and I saw
The argent splendour of white limbs ascend,
And in that joy forgot my tortured past.
Oscar Wilde
written by Oscar Wilde, published on Wed 02.24.2010 at 21:53
The sin was mine; I did not understand.
So now is music prisoned in her cave,
Save where some ebbing desultory wave
written by Oscar Wilde, published on Thu 02.18.2010 at 04:56
THE apple trees are hung with gold,
And birds are loud in Arcady,
The sheep lie bleating in the fold,
written by Oscar Wilde, published on Sat 02.13.2010 at 09:09
Under the rose-tree's dancing shade
There stands a little ivory girl,
Pulling the leaves of pink and pearl
written by Oscar Wilde, published on Mon 02.08.2010 at 15:55
LIKE burnt-out torches by a sick man's bed
Gaunt cypress-trees stand round the sun-bleached stone;
written by Oscar Wilde, published on Tue 02.02.2010 at 23:05
CHRIST, dost thou live indeed? or are thy bones
Still straightened in their rock-hewn sepulchre?
written by Oscar Wilde, published on Mon 01.18.2010 at 18:09
WHERE hast thou been since round the walls of Troy
The sons of God fought in that great emprise?
