Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, EASTER DAY [IN ROME], by OSCAR WILDE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

EASTER DAY [IN ROME], by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: The silver trumpets rang across the dome
Last Line: "and bruise my feet, and drink wine salt with tears."
Alternate Author Name(s): Finga, O'flahertie Wills
Subject(s): Easter; Holidays; Rome, Italy; The Resurrection


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 splendour 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."





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