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Oscar Wilde
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First lines
Oscar Wilde
(1854–1900)
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Poem titles
First lines
Biography
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A
A lily-girl, not made for this world’s pain
A ring of gold and a milk-white dove
Albeit nurtured in democracy
As oftentimes the too resplendent sun
As one who poring on a Grecian urn
C
Christ, dost thou live indeed? or are thy bones
Come down, O Christ, and help me! reach thy hand
D
Dear Heart I think the young impassioned priest
E
Eagle of Austerlitz! where were thy wings
H
He did not wear his scarlet coat
He was a Grecian lad, who coming home
Her ivory hands on the ivory keys
How steep the stairs within Kings’ houses are
How vain and dull this common world must seem
I
I am weary of lying within the chase
I can write no stately proem
I marvel not Bassanio was so bold
I reached the Alps: the soul within me burned
I stood by the unvintageable sea
I wandered in Scoglietto’s green retreat
In the lone tent, waiting for victory
Is it thy will that I should wax and wane
It is full summer now, the heart of June
It is full Winter now: the trees are bare
Italia! thou art fallen, though with sheen
L
Like burnt-out torches by a sick man’s bed
M
Milton! I think thy spirit hath passed away
My limbs are wasted with a flame
N
Nay, let us walk from fire unto fire
Nay, Lord, not thus! white lilies in the spring
Not that I love thy children, whose dull eyes
O
O singer of Persephone!
Oft have we trod the vales of Castaly
R
Rid of the world’s injustice, and his pain
Rome! what a scroll of History thine has been
S
See, I have climbed the mountain side
Set in this stormy Northern sea
Seven stars in the still water
Sweet I blame you not for mine the fault was, had I not been made of common clay
T
The apple trees are hung with gold
The corn has turned from grey to red
The Gods are dead: no longer do we bring
The little white clouds are racing over the sky
The oleander on the wall
The sea is flecked with bars of grey
The sea was sapphire coloured, and the sky
The silent room, the heavy creeping shade
The silver trumpets rang across the Dome
The sky is laced with fitful red
The Thames nocturne of blue and gold
The western wind is blowing fair
The wild bee reels from bough to bough
There was a time in Europe long ago
This English Thames is holier far than Rome
This mighty empire hath but feet of clay
To drift with every passion till my soul
To outer senses there is peace
To stab my youth with desperate knives, to wear
To that gaunt House of Art which lacks for naught
Tread lightly, she is near
Two crownèd Kings, and One that stood alone
W
Was this His coming! I had hoped to see
Where hast thou been since round the walls of Troy
Within this restless, hurried, modern world