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Sonnet On Hearing The Dies Irae Sung In The Sistine Chapel

Rating: 2.9
Nay, Lord, not thus! white lilies in the spring,
Sad olive-groves, or silver-breasted dove,
Teach me more clearly of Thy life and love
Than terrors of red flame and thundering.
The hillside vines dear memories of Thee bring:
A bird at evening flying to its nest
Tells me of One who had no place of rest:
I think it is of Thee the sparrows sing.
Come rather on some autumn afternoon,
When red and brown are burnished on the leaves,
And the fields echo to the gleaner's song,
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Mizzy ........ 01 September 2016
Another beautiful sonnet from Oscar's skilful pen.
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Fabrizio Frosini 17 May 2016
listening to the ''Dies Irae'' while watching Michelangelo's frescoes, in the Sistine Chapel.. I can easily understand Oscar Wild's feelings..
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