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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." 



Oscar Wilde's other poems:
  1. Ave Maria Gratia Plena • Ave Maria Gratia Plena
  2. Taedium Vitae
  3. Portia
  4. Le Jardin Des Tuileries
  5. Double Villanelle


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Английская поэзия