Requiescat
AD lightly, she is near Under the snow, Speak gently, she can hear The daisies grow. All her bright golden hair Tarnished with rust, She that was young and fair Fallen to dust. Lily-like, white as snow, She hardly knew She was a woman, so Sweetly she grew. Coffin-board, heavy stone, Lie on her breast, I vex my heart alone She is at rest. Peace,
Peace, she cannot hear Lyre or sonnet, All my life's buried here, Heap earth upon it.
ON.
Oscar Wilde
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Flower of Love
Sweet, I blame you not, for mine the fault was, had I not been made of common clayI had climbed the higher heights unclimbed yet, seen the fuller air, the larger day From the wildness of my wasted passion I had struck a better, clearer s...
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IA thou art fallen, though with sheen Of battle-spears thy clamorous armies stride From the north Alps to the Sicilian tide Ay fallen, though the nations hail thee Queen Because rich gold in every town is seen, And on thy sapphire l...
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My limbs are wasted with a flame, My feet are sore with travelling, For, calling on my Lady's name, My lips have now forgot to sing
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In the glad springtime when leaves were green, O merrily the throstle sings I sought, amid the tangled sheen, Love whom mine eyes had never seen,