Oscar Wilde

(1854-1900 / Dublin / Ireland)


Poem by Oscar Wilde

TREAD lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.

All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.

Lily-like, white as snow,
She hardly knew
She was a woman, so
Sweetly she grew.

Coffin-board, heavy stone,
Lie on her breast,
I vex my heart alone
She is at rest.

Peace, Peace, she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet,
All my life's buried here,
Heap earth upon it.


Comments about Requiescat by Oscar Wilde

  • crb 2080 (4/27/2015 3:52:00 PM)

    xThis peom is a favorite.(Report)Reply

    3 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Bill GalvinBill Galvin (4/27/2015 3:30:00 PM)

    A simple, and poignant, graveside piece that speaks for anyone dealing with the loss of a loved one.(Report)Reply

    3 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Heaven JacksonHeaven Jackson (4/27/2015 10:59:00 AM)

    this is the best poem i ever read! it got some heart(Report)Reply

    4 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • John Richter (4/27/2015 6:48:00 AM)

    This brings such familiarity with it, such human-ness pours from it, loss, grief, love unspoken.... My mother passed 40 years ago and not a day goes by that the root of this poem, its essence has not wrenched from my soul... Life goes on, as they say, as do the years. But not really. How intensely beautifully Mr. Wilde described this part of us.(Report)Reply

    3 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Jenevieve Larcombe (8/2/2011 6:44:00 PM)

    My favourite of his.(Report)Reply

    5 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
Read all 5 comments »

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Read poems about / on: sonnet, snow, peace, woman, hair, alone, heart, life, women

Poem Submitted: Friday, May 18, 2001

Poem Edited: Friday, May 18, 2001

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