Oscar Wilde

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...

Could we dig up this long-buried treasure,
Were it worth the pleasure,
We never could learn love's song,
We are parted too

IN this restless, hurried, modern world We took our hearts' full pleasure;
You and I, And now the white sails of our ship are furled, And spent the lading of our argosy
Wherefore my cheeks before their time are wan, For very weeping is m...

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

The sea is flecked with bars of grey,
The dull dead wind is out of tune,
And like a withered leaf the
Is blown across the stormy bay

Thou knowest all;
I seek in
What lands to till or sow with seed -The land is black with briar and weed,
Nor cares for falling tears or rain

ME down,
O Christ, and help me
reach thy hand,            For I am drowning in a stormier sea            Than Simon on thy lake of Galilee:
The wine of life is spilt upon the sand,

The sea was sapphire coloured, and the
Burned like a heated opal through the air;
We hoisted sail; the wind was blowing
For the blue lands that to the eastward lie

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,

OR
IC
)
HE apple trees are hung with gold, And birds are loud in Arcady, The sheep lie bleating in the fold, The wild goat runs across the wold, But yesterday his love he told, I know he will come back to me...

I can write no stately
As a prelude to my lay;
From a poet to a poemI would dare to say
For if of these fallen

An omnibus across the
Crawls like a yellow butterfly,
And, here and there a
Shows like a little restless midge