CHARMIDES (Oscar Wilde Poems)
I. He was a Grecian lad, who coming home With pulpy figs and wine from Sicily Stood at his galley's ...
I. He was a Grecian lad, who coming home With pulpy figs and wine from Sicily Stood at his galley's ...
It is full summer now, the heart of June; Not yet the sunburnt reapers are astir Upon the upland meadow ...
A white mist drifts across the shrouds, A wild moon in this wintry sky Gleams like an angry lion's eye ...
The Gods are dead: no longer do we bring To grey-eyed Pallas crowns of olive-leaves! Demeter's child no more hath ...
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