Oscar Wilde

(1854-1900 / Dublin / Ireland)

Oscar Wilde Poems

81. Helas! 5/18/2001
82. The Sphinx 1/3/2003
83. Roses And Rue 1/3/2003
84. Athanasia 1/3/2003
85. The Grave Of Shelley 5/18/2001
86. Endymion 5/18/2001
87. The Grave Of Keats 5/18/2001
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. Greece 1/3/2003
93. Desespoir 1/3/2003
94. To My Wife 1/3/2003
95. Ravenna 1/3/2003
96. A Fragment 4/1/2010
97. At Verona 5/18/2001
98. Requiescat 5/18/2001
99. My Voice 5/18/2001
100. Symphony In Yellow 1/3/2003
101. A Lament 4/1/2010
102. Camma 5/18/2001
103. In The Forest 1/3/2003
104. Apologia 5/18/2001
105. Ava Maria Plena Gratia 5/18/2001
106. Amor Intellectualis 5/18/2001
107. The Ballad Of Reading Gaol 5/18/2001
108. Flower Of Love 1/3/2003
109. A Vision 5/18/2001
110. Her Voice 5/18/2001

Comments about Oscar Wilde

  • Sylva Portoian Sylva Portoian (7/21/2012 12:49:00 AM)

    Every person has some genius-ness in his cells...
    brain...hands or body...
    Needs the chance to appear
    Needs the luck...
    You have...I have
    As small as it can be
    Even very small
    It is still geniusty...!

    62 person liked.
    65 person did not like.
  • 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.

  • 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

Le Panneau

Under the rose-tree's dancing shade
There stands a little ivory girl,
Pulling the leaves of pink and pearl
With pale green nails of polished jade.

The red leaves fall upon the mould,
The white leaves flutter, one by one,
Down to a blue bowl where the sun,
Like a great dragon, writhes in gold.

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