Oscar Wilde (Оскар Уайльд)

Easter Day

The silver trumpets rang across the Dome:
The people knelt upon the ground with awe:
And borne upon the necks of men I saw,
Like some great God, the Holy Lord of Rome.
Priest-like, he wore a robe more white than foam,
And, king-like, swathed himself in royal red,
Three crowns of gold rose high upon his head:
In splendor and in light the Pope passed home.

My heart stole back across wide wastes of years
To One who wandered by a lonely sea,
And sought in vain for any place of rest:
"Foxes have holes, and every bird its nest,
I, only I, must wander wearily,
And bruise My feet, and drink wine salt with tears." 

1. Salve Saturnia Tellus
2. Sonnet Written in Holy Week at Genoa
3. Desespoir
4. Fabien Dei Franchi
5. From Spring Days to Winter (For Music)

Распечатать стихотворение (Poem to print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1264

Последние стихотворения

To English version