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
As with many of Wilde’s poems, this bears a Latin title to correspond with the religious theme. It is worth noting that Wilde often gives English titles to Greece-themed poetry, but Latin or French titles to religion-oriented works. This one is in Latin, and roughly translates to “Because I Have Lov...
Dear Heart I think the young impassioned priest
When first he takes from out the hidden shrine
His God imprisoned in the Eucharist,
And eats the bread, and drinks the dreadful wine,
Feels not such awful wonder as I felt
When first my smitten eyes beat full on thee,
And all night long before thy feet I knelt
Till thou wert wearied of Idolatry.
Ah! had’st thou liked me less and loved me more,
Through all those summer days of joy and rain,
I had not now been sorrow’s heritor,
Or stood a lackey in the House of Pain.
Yet, though remorse, youth’s white-faced seneschal
Tread on my heels with all his retinue,
I am most glad I loved thee—think of all
The suns that go to make one speedwell blue!