La Bella Donna Della Mia Mente (Oscar Wilde Poems)
My limbs are wasted with a flame, My feet are sore with travelling, For, calling on my Lady's name, My ...
My limbs are wasted with a flame, My feet are sore with travelling, For, calling on my Lady's name, My ...
(In memoriam C. T. W. Sometime trooper of the Royal Horse Guards obiit H.M. prison, Reading, Berkshire July 7, 1896) ...
(To Ellen Terry) In the lone tent, waiting for victory, She stands with eyes marred by the mists of pain, ...
The wild bee reels from bough to bough With his furry coat and his gauzy wing, Now in a lily-cup, ...
The little white clouds are racing over the sky, And the fields are strewn with the gold of the flower ...
I. He was a Grecian lad, who coming home With pulpy figs and wine from Sicily Stood at his galley's ...
Where hast thou been since round the walls of Troy The sons of God fought in that great emprise? Why ...
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