Oscar Wilde

(1854-1900 / Dublin / Ireland)

The True Knowledge - Poem by Oscar Wilde

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

Thou knowest all; I sit and wait
With blinded eyes and hands that fail,
Till the last lifting of the veil
And the first opening of the gate.

Thou knowest all; I cannot see.
I trust I shall not live in vain,
I know that we shall meet again
In some divine eternity.

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Read poems about / on: trust, rain

Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003

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