Oscar Wilde

OR
IC.)
HE apple trees are hung with gold,
And birds are loud in Arcady

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.

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

(To Ellen Terry)As one who poring on a Grecian urn
Scans the fair shapes some Attic hand hath made,
God with slim goddess, goodly man with maid,
And for their beauty's sake is loth to turn…

This winter air is keen and cold,
And keen and cold this winter sun,
But round my chair the children run
Like little things of dancing gold.Sometimes about the painted kiosk…

I MARVEL not Bassanio was so bold
To peril all he had upon the lead,
Or that proud Aragon bent low his head,
Or that Morocco's fiery heart grew cold:…

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.

ROME! what a scroll of History thine has been
In the first days thy sword republican
Ruled the whole world for many an age's span:
Then of thy peoples thou wert crownèd Queen,…

Не то, чтоб я любил твоих детей,
Кто видел лишь одно — они страдали.
Знать не хотели ничего, не знали…
Но рев тот Демократии твоей,…

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,…

Воскрес ли Ты, Христос? Иль жертвой тленья
В гробу лежишь, во глубине земли?
А верить в Воскресение могли
Лишь те, чей грех возжаждал искупленья?Истреблены врагом без сожаленья…

Давай в огонь бросаться из огня,
Тропой восторга рваться к средоточью, —
Бесстрастие — пока не для меня,
И вряд ли ты захочешь летней ночью…

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

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

THE silent room, the heavy creeping shade,
The dead that travel fast, the opening door,
The murdered brother rising through the floor,
The ghost's white fingers on thy shoulders laid,…

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

Марселю Швобу,
дружески и восхищенноВ глухом углу, сквозь мрак неясный
Угрюмой комнаты моей,
Следит за мной так много дней…

Christ, dost Thou live indeed? or are Thy bones
Still straitened in their rock-hewn sepulchre?
And was Thy Rising only dreamed by her
Whose love of Thee for all her sin atones?…

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.

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?…

THIS English Thames is holier far than Rome,
Those harebells like a sudden flush of sea
Breaking across the woodland, with the foam
Of meadow-sweet and white anemone…

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…

Ступай легко: ведь обитает
Она под снегом там.
Шепчи нежней: она внимает
Лесным цветам.‎Заржавела коса златая,…

Ты брошена в седое море
И предоставлена судьбе,
О Англия! Каких историй
Не повторяют о тебе?Земля, хрустальный шарик малый,…