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Oscar Wilde

Easter Day

The silver trumpets rang across the Dome:
The people knelt upon the ground with awe:
And borne upon the necks of men I saw,
Like some great God, the Holy Lord of Rome.
Priest-like, he wore a robe more white than foam,
And, king-like, swathed himself in royal red,
Three crowns of gold rose high upon his head:
In splendour and in light the Pope passed home.
My heart stole back across wide wastes of years
To One who wandered by a lonely sea,
And sought in vain for any place of rest:
'Foxes have holes, and every bird its nest.
I, only I, must wander wearily,
And bruise my feet, and drink wine salt with tears.'

 
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About the poet
Oscar Wilde
 
By the same poet
The Ballad of Reading Gaol
Helas!
Sonnet to Liberty
Ave Imperatrix
To Milton
Louis Napoleon
On the Massacre of the Christians in Bulgaria
Quantum Mutata
Libertatis Sacra Fames
Theoretikos
The Garden Of Eros
Requiescat
Sonnet On Approaching Italy
San Miniato
Ave Maria Gratia Plena
Italia
Holy Week at Genoa
Rome Unvisited
Urbs Sacra Aeterna
Sonnet on Hearing the Dies Irae Sung in the Sistine Chapel
E Tenebris
Vita Nuova
 
Related books
Oscar Wilde at amazon.com


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