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Oscar Wilde's Poetry, by written

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  • NOT that I love thy children, whose dull eyes
    14 lines, 1 comment
  • SET in this stormy Northern sea,
    &nb
    124 lines, 1 comment
  • MILTON! I think thy spirit hath passed away
    14 lines
  • EAGLE of Austerlitz! where were thy wings
    &
    16 lines
  • There was a time in Europe long ago
          When no man died for freedom anywhere,
    14 lines, 1 comment
  • ALBEIT nurtured in democracy,
    &nbs
    15 lines
  • THIS mighty empire hath but feet of clay:
    &n
    0 lines, 1 comment
  • IT is full summer now, the heart of June,
    Not yet the
    277 lines
  • TREAD lightly, she is near
    0 lines, 1 comment
  • I REACHED the Alps: the soul within me burned
     
    15 lines
  • SEE, I have climbed the mountain s
    0 lines, 1 comment
  • ITALIA! thou art fallen, though with sheen
    14 lines, 1 comment
  • I WANDERED in Scoglietto's green retreat,
    15 lines
  • THE corn has turned from grey to red,
    Since first my spirit wandered forth
    62 lines, 1 comment
  • ROME! what a scroll of History thine has been
     
    14 lines, 1 comment
  • COME down, O Christ, and help me! reach thy hand,
                For I am drowning in a stormier sea
    14 lines, 4 comments
  • A LILY-GIRL, not made for this world's pain,
     
    14 lines, 2 comments
  • WHERE hast thou been since round the walls of Troy
    The sons of God fought in that great emprise?
    121 lines, 1 comment
  • THIS English Thames is holier far than Rome,
    Those harebells lik
    349 lines
  • THE Thames nocturne of blue and gold
    Changed to a Harmony in grey:
    16 lines, 1 comment
  • THE little white clouds are racing over the sky,
    And the fi
    20 lines, 1 comment
  • (FOR MUSIC.)
    THE western wind is blowing&nbs
    41 lines, 1 comment
  • (FOR MUSIC.)
    THE apple trees are hung w
    43 lines, 1 comment
  • My limbs are wasted with a flame,
    My feet are sore with travelling,
    38 lines, 1 comment
  • A RING of gold and a milk-white dove
    &
    16 lines, 1 comment
  • HE was a Grecian lad, who coming home
    With pulpy figs and wine from Sicily
    676 lines
  • TO outer senses there is peace,
    &nbs
    0 lines
  • Rid of the world's injustice, and his pain,
        He rests at last beneath God's veil of blue:
    15 lines, 1 comment
  • OFT have we trod the vales of Castaly
    14 lines, 2 comments
  • THE Gods are dead: no longer do we bring
    &nbs
    14 lines
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