Flower of Love (Oscar Wilde Poems)
Sweet, I blame you not, for mine the fault was, had I not been made of commonclayI had climbed the ...
Sweet, I blame you not, for mine the fault was, had I not been made of commonclayI had climbed the ...
WAS this His coming! I had hoped to seeA scene of wondrous glory, as was toldOf some great God who ...
Was this His coming! I had hoped to see A scene of wondrous glory, as was told Of some great ...
It is full summer now, the heart of June; Not yet the sunburnt reapers are astir Upon the upland meadow ...
It is full winter now: the trees are bare, Save where the cattle huddle from the cold Beneath the pine, ...
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