Oscar Wilde

(1854-1900 / Dublin / Ireland)


Poem by Oscar Wilde

THIS mighty empire hath but feet of clay:
Of all its ancient chivalry and might
Our little island is forsaken quite:
Some enemy hath stolen its crown of bay,
And from its hills that voice hath passed away
Which spake of Freedom: O come out of it,
Come out of it, my Soul, thou art not fit
For this vile traffic-house, where day by day
Wisdom and reverence are sold at mart,
And the rude people rage with ignorant cries
Against an heritage of centuries.
It mars my calm: wherefore in dreams of Art
And loftiest culture I would stand apart,
Neither for God, nor for his enemies.

Comments about Theoretikos by Oscar Wilde

  • MinMinMyat (3/8/2018 11:45:00 PM)

    I am very intersted in liteature and reading poems.So l want to be a member of this page.(Report)Reply

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  • Min Min Myat (3/8/2018 11:43:00 PM)


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Read poems about / on: culture, freedom, house, people, god, dream

Poem Submitted: Friday, May 18, 2001

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