Classic and Contemporary Poetry
LOTUS LEAVES, by OSCAR WILDE Poet's Biography First Line: There is no peace beneath the noon Last Line: By sailing on the barren sea. Alternate Author Name(s): Finga, O'flahertie Wills Subject(s): Fathers; Lotus; Lotos | ||||||||
I There is no peace beneath the noon. -- Ah! in those meadows is there peace Where, girdled with a silver fleece, As a bright shepherd, strays the moon? Queen of the gardens of the sky, Where stars like lilies, white and fair, Shine through the mists of frosty air, O tarry, for the dawn is nigh! O tarry, for the envious day Stretches long hands to catch thy feet. Alas! but thou art overfleet, Alas! I know thou wilt not stay. II Eastward the dawn has broken red, The circling mists and shadows flee; Aurora rises from the sea, And leaves the crocus-flowered bed. Eastward the silver arrows fall, Splintering the veil of holy night; And a long wave of yellow light Breaks silently on tower and hall, And spreading wide across the wold, Wakes into flight some fluttering bird; And all the chestnut tops are stirred, And all the branches streaked with gold. III To outer senses there is peace, A dream-like peace on either hand; Deep silence in the shadowy land, Deep silence where the shadows cease, Save for a cry that echoes shrill From some lone bird disconsolate; A curlew calling to its mate; The answer from the distant hill. And, herald of my love to Him Who, waiting for the dawn, doth lie, The orbed maiden leaves the sky, And the white fires grow more dim. IV Up sprang the sun to run his race, The breeze blew fair on meadow and lea; But in the west I seemed to see The likeness of a human face. A linnet on the hawthorn spray Sang of the glories of the spring, And made the flow'ring copses ring With gladness for the new-born day. A lark from out the grass I trod Flew wildly, and was lost to view In the great seamless veil of blue That hangs before the face of God. The willow whispered overhead That death is but a newer life, And that with idle words of strife We bring dishonour on the dead. I took a branch from off the tree, And hawthorn-blossoms drenched with dew, I bound them with a sprig of yew, And made a garland fair to see. I laid the flowers where He lies (Warm leaves and flowers on the stone); What joy I had to sit alone Till evening broke on tired eyes: Till all the shifting clouds had spun A robe of gold for God to wear, And into seas of purple air Sank the bright galley of the sun. V Shall I be gladdened for the day, And let my inner heart be stirred By murmuring tree or song of bird, And sorrow at the wild wind's play? Not so: such idle dreams belong To souls of lesser depth than mine; I feel that I am half divine; I know that I am great and strong. I know that every forest tree By labour rises from the root; I know that none shall gather fruit By sailing on the barren sea. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOTUS OF THE NILE by ARTHUR WENTWORTH HAMILTON EATON ON A JAPANESE NO DANCE by ALICE ROGERS HAGER THE LOTOS AND THE LILY: THE LOTOS by PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE THE LOTOS FLOWER by HEINRICH HEINE THE NILE by BENJAMIN FRANKLIN KING THE WEDDING OF THE ROSE AND THE LOTOS by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY THE LOTUS POND by JANET B. MONTGOMERY MCGOVERN MOUNTAIN LOTUS by ISABEL NEILL |
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