Category Oscar Wilde

A fair slim boy not made for this world’s pain.With hair of gold thick clustering round his ears,And longing eyes half veiled by foolish tearsLike bluest water seen through mists of rain: —Pale cheeks whereon no kiss hath left its…

And there was silence in the House of Judgment, and the Man camenaked before God. And God opened the Book of the Life of the Man. And God said to the Man, ‘Thy life hath been evil, and thou hastshown…

We are resolved into the supreme air,We are made one with what we touch and see,With our heart’s blood each crimson sun is fair,With our young lives each spring-impassioned treeFlames into green, the wildest beasts that rangeThe moor our kinsmen…

In the lone tent, waiting for victory,She stands with eyes marred by the mists of pain,Like some wan lily overdrenched with rain:The clamorous clang of arms, the ensanguined sky,War’s ruin, and the wreck of chivalry,To her proud soul no common…

I reached the Alps: the soul within me burnedItalia, my Italia, at thy name:And when from out the mountain’s heart I cameAnd saw the land for which my life had yearned,I laughed as one who some great prize had earned:And…

Under the rose-tree’s dancing shadeThere stands a little ivory girl,Pulling the leaves of pink and pearlWith pale green nails of polished jade. The red leaves fall upon the mould,The white leaves flutter, one by one,Down to a blue bowl where…

Seven stars in the still water,And seven in the sky;Seven sins on the King’s daughter,Deep in her soul to lie. Red roses are at her feet,(Roses are red in her red-gold hair)And O where her bosom and girdle meetRed roses…

Dear Heart I think the young impassioned priestWhen first he takes from out the hidden shrineHis God imprisoned in the Eucharist,And eats the bread, and drinks the dreadful wine, Feels not such awful wonder as I feltWhen first my smitten…

The sea was sapphire coloured, and the skyBurned like a heated opal through the air,We hoisted sail; the wind was blowing fairFor the blue lands that to the eastward lie.From the steep prow I marked with quickening eyeZakynthos, every olive…

The sea is flecked with bars of greyThe dull dead wind is out of tune,And like a withered leaf the moonIs blown across the stormy bay. Etched clear upon the pallid sandThe black boat lies: a sailor boyClambers aboard in…