Oscar Wilde

(1854-1900 / Dublin / Ireland)

Oscar Wilde Poems

81. The True Knowledge 1/3/2003
82. Roses And Rue 1/3/2003
83. E Tenebris 5/18/2001
84. Helas! 5/18/2001
85. The Grave Of Shelley 5/18/2001
86. The Grave Of Keats 5/18/2001
87. From Spring Days To Winter (For Music) 1/3/2003
88. Chanson 5/18/2001
89. The Harlot's House 1/3/2003
90. Easter Day 5/18/2001
91. By The Arno 5/18/2001
92. Ravenna 1/3/2003
93. Greece 1/3/2003
94. Desespoir 1/3/2003
95. A Fragment 4/1/2010
96. At Verona 5/18/2001
97. To My Wife 1/3/2003
98. Requiescat 5/18/2001
99. Symphony In Yellow 1/3/2003
100. In The Forest 1/3/2003
101. My Voice 5/18/2001
102. A Lament 4/1/2010
103. Camma 5/18/2001
104. Ava Maria Plena Gratia 5/18/2001
105. Apologia 5/18/2001
106. Amor Intellectualis 5/18/2001
107. The Ballad Of Reading Gaol 5/18/2001
108. A Vision 5/18/2001
109. Flower Of Love 1/3/2003
110. Her Voice 5/18/2001

Comments about Oscar Wilde

  • T.P. Edwards (10/12/2007 6:26:00 PM)

    Wilde cryptic word spinning to somewhere in nowhere.
    He was no genius, a bewildered poet who thought he was a genius.
    Did the poem liberate him or anyone from its cage of flowery words bespeckled with Greek gods and goddesses?
    I tend to doubt it. A love for his own intellect, displayful of a pruriant pride in pining.

    38 person liked.
    194 person did not like.
  • SS BAGHELA (10/4/2005 9:23:00 AM)

    He was a literary genius. I enjoy his poetry immensely. Conspirative Nature stole his life prematurely.

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

Quantum Mutata

THERE was a time in Europe long ago
When no man died for freedom anywhere,
But England's lion leaping from its lair
Laid hands on the oppressor! it was so
While England could a great Republic show.
Witness the men of Piedmont, chiefest care
Of Cromwell, when with impotent despair
The Pontiff in his painted portico
Trembled before our stern ambassadors.

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