Helas a poem
Oscar Wilde No Comments »To drift with every passion till my soul
Is a stringed lute on which all winds can play,
Is it for this that I have given away
Mine ancient wisdom, and austere control?
Methinks …
Popularity: 21%
To drift with every passion till my soul
Is a stringed lute on which all winds can play,
Is it for this that I have given away
Mine ancient wisdom, and austere control?
Methinks …
Popularity: 21%
What smouldering senses in death’s sick delay
Or seizure of malign vicissitude
Can rob this body of honour, or denude
This soul of wedding-raiment worn to-day?
For lo! even now my lady’s lips did …
Popularity: 19%
Soft-littered is the new-year’s lambing fold,
And in the hollowed haystack at its side
The shepherd lies o’ night now, wakeful-eyed
At the ewes’ travailing call through the dark cold.
The young rooks cheep ...
Popularity: 20%
Between the hands, between the brows,
Between the lips of Love-Lily,
A spirit is born whose birth endows
My blood with fire to burn through me;
Who breathes upon my gazing eyes,
Who laughs and …
Popularity: 19%
Thin are the night-skirts left behind
By daybreak hours that onward creep,
And thin, alas! the shred of sleep
That wavers with the spirit’s wind:
But in half-dreams that shift and roll
And still remember …
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Beauty like hers is genius. Not the call
Of Homer’s or of Dante’s heart sublime,
Not Michael’s hand furrowing the zones of time,
Is more with compassed mysteries musical;
Nay, not in Spring’s Summer̵...
Popularity: 16%
Young Love lies sleeping
In May-time of the year,
Among the lilies,
Lapped in the tender light:
White lambs come grazing,
White doves come building there:
And round about him
The May-bushes are white.
...
Popularity: 19%
Where sunless rivers weep
Their waves into the deep
She sleeps a charmed sleep:
Awake her not.
Led by a single star,
She came from very far
To seek where shadows are
Her pleasant lot.
She left the ̷...
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The mother will not turn, who thinks she hears
Her nursling’s speech first grow articulate;
But breathless with averted eyes elate
She sits, with open lips and open ears,
That it may call her …
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Know’st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the heart feels a languid grief
Laid on it for a covering,
And how sleep seems a goodly thing
In Autumn at the fall …
Popularity: 21%