Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Many of Wilde’s early poems pay tribute to literary geniuses he strongly admired (e.g. The Grave of Keats, The Grave of Shelley, Theocritus, Amor Intellectualis and others)–A Vision is definitely no exception.
In this poem, a scene featuring Sophokles, Aeschylus, and Euripides are depicted; though...
Two crownèd Kings, and One that stood alone
With no green weight of laurels round his head,
But with sad eyes as one uncomforted,
And wearied with man’s never-ceasing moan
For sins no bleating victim can atone,
And sweet long lips with tears and kisses fed.
Girt was he in a garment black and red,
And at his feet I marked a broken stone
Which sent up lilies, dove-like, to his knees.
Now at their sight, my heart being lit with flame
I cried to Beatricé, “Who are these?”
And she made answer, knowing well each name,
“Æschylos first, the second Sophokles,
And last (wide stream of tears!) Euripides.”