Poem by Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde (1854-1900)



    To drift with every passion till my soul
    Is a stringed lute on which all winds can play,
    Is it for this that I have given away
    Mine ancient wisdom, and austere control?
    Methinks my life is a twice-written scroll
    Scrawled over on some boyish holiday
    With idle songs for pipe and virelay,
    Which do but mar the secret of the whole.
    Surely there was a time I might have trod
    The sunlit heights, and from life's dissonance
    Struck one clear chord to reach the ears of God:
    Is that time dead? lo! with a little rod
    I did but touch the honey of romance
    And must I lose a soul's inheritance?



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Poetry by Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2021-05-02 at 00:41

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one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
I keep rereading this. I've never read a poem by O.W. It is completely absorbing in form and content.

Thomas D The PoetBay support member heart!
All the feels, all the loves, all the plaudits and kudos. I really love the poetry of Oscar Wilde, and prefer it to his plays. The poetry, Dorian Gray, De Profundis, and the dialogues: that's where it's at for me!