Oscar Wilde

(1854-1900 / Dublin / Ireland)

Oscar Wilde Poems

1. The House Of Judgement 4/1/2010
2. We Are Made One with What We Touch and See 4/20/2015
3. The Artist 2/9/2015
4. Nay, Lord, not thus! white lilies in the spring 5/6/2015
5. Louis Napoleon 5/18/2001
6. Queen Henrietta Maria 5/18/2001
7. On The Massacre Of The Christians In Bulgaria 1/3/2003
8. Quia Multum Amavi 5/18/2001
9. The Burden Of Itys 5/18/2001
10. Libertatis Sacra Fames 5/18/2001
11. Salve Saturnia Tellus 1/3/2003
12. Theocritus 5/18/2001
13. Tadium Vita 5/18/2001
14. Quantum Mutata 5/18/2001
15. Tristitiae 1/3/2003
16. The Master 4/1/2010
17. Urbs Sacra Æterna 5/18/2001
18. The Disciple 4/1/2010
19. To Milton 5/18/2001
20. The Dole Of The King's Daughter (Breton) 1/3/2003
21. On The Sale By Auction Of Keats' Love Letters 1/3/2003
22. Sonnet Written In Holy Week At Genoa 12/31/2002
23. The New Helen 5/18/2001
24. On Easter Day 1/3/2003
25. Le Reveillon 5/18/2001
26. Taedium Vitae 1/3/2003
27. Phedre 1/3/2003
28. Fabien Dei Franchi 5/18/2001
29. Le Panneau 1/3/2003
30. Impression Du Voyage 5/18/2001
31. Impressions I. Les Silhouettes 5/18/2001
32. Portia 5/18/2001
33. Impressions Ii. La Fuite De La Lune 5/18/2001
34. Theoretikos 5/18/2001
35. Le Jardin Des Tuileries 1/3/2003
36. Sonnet On Approaching Italy 5/18/2001
37. Santa Decca 5/18/2001
38. A Villanelle 4/1/2010
39. Le Jardin 1/3/2003
40. La Mer 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Oscar Wilde

Her Voice

THE wild bee reels from bough to bough
With his furry coat and his gauzy wing.
Now in a lily-cup, and now
Setting a jacinth bell a-swing,
In his wandering;
Sit closer love: it was here I trow
I made that vow,

Swore that two lives should be like one
As long as the sea-gull loved the sea,
As long as the sunflower sought the sun,--
It shall be, I said, for eternity
...

Read the full of Her Voice

Rome Unvisited

I.
THE corn has turned from grey to red,
Since first my spirit wandered forth
From the drear cities of the north,
And to Italia's mountains fled.

And here I set my face towards home,
For all my pilgrimage is done,
Although, methinks, yon blood-red sun

[Report Error]