Admonition to a Traveller / William Wordsworth

Yes, there is holy pleasure in thine eye!

- The lovely cottage in the guardian nook

Hath stirred thee deeply; with its own dear brook,

Its own small pasture, almost its own sky!

But covet not the abode -O do not sigh

As many do, repining while they look;

Intruders who would tear from Nature's book

This precious leaf with harsh impiety:

A Slumber Did My Spirit Seal / William Wordsworth

A slumber did my spirit seal;

I had no human fears:

She seemed a thing that could not feel

The touch of earthly years.

No motion has she now, no force;

She neither hears nor sees;

Rolled round in earth's diurnal course

With rocks, and stones, and trees.

With A Copy Of 'A House Of Pomegranates' / Oscar Wilde

Go, little book,

To him who, on a lute with horns of pearl,

Sang of the white feet of the Golden Girl:

And bid him look

Into thy pages: it may hap that he

May find that golden maidens dance through thee.

Vita Nuova / Oscar Wilde

I stood by the unvintageable sea

Till the wet waves drenched face and hair with spray;

The long red fires of the dying day

Burned in the west; the wind piped drearily;

And to the land the clamorous gulls did flee:

'Alas!' I cried, 'my life is full of pain,

And who can garner fruit or golden grain

From these waste fields which travail ceaselessly!'

Urbs Sacra Aeterna / Oscar Wilde

Rome! what a scroll of History thine has been;

In the first days thy sword republican

Ruled the whole world for many an age's span:

Then of the peoples wert thou royal Queen,

Till in thy streets the bearded Goth was seen;

And now upon thy walls the breezes fan

(Ah, city crowned by God, discrowned by man!)

The hated flag of red and white and green.

Under The Balcony / Oscar Wilde

O beautiful star with the crimson mouth!

O moon with the brows of gold!

Rise up, rise up, from the odorous south!

And light for my love her way,

Lest her little feet should stray

On the windy hill and the wold!

O beautiful star with the crimson mouth!

O moon with the brows of gold!

Tristitiae / Oscar Wilde

O well for him who lives at ease

With garnered gold in wide domain,

Nor heeds the splashing of the rain,

The crashing down of forest trees.

O well for him who ne'er hath known

The travail of the hungry years,

A father grey with grief and tears,

A mother weeping all alone.

To My Wife-With A Copy Of My Poems / Oscar Wilde

I can write no stately proem

As a prelude to my lay;

From a poet to a poem

I would dare to say.

For if of these fallen petals

One to you seem fair,

Love will waft it till it settles

On your hair.

To Milton / Oscar Wilde

Milton! I think thy spirit hath passed away

From these white cliffs and high-embattled towers;

This gorgeous fiery-coloured world of ours

Seems fallen into ashes dull and grey,

And the age changed unto a mimic play

Wherein we waste our else too-crowded hours:

For all our pomp and pageantry and powers

We are but fit to delve the common clay,

Theoretikos / 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,