To drift with every passion till my soul
Is a stringed lute on which can winds can play,
Is it for this that I have given away
Mine ancient wisdom and austere control?
Methinks my life is a twice-written scroll
Scrawled over on some boyish holiday
With idle songs for pipe and virelay,
Which do but mar the secret of the whole.
Surely there was a time I might have trod
The sunlit heights, and from life's dissonance
Struck one clear chord to reach the ears of God:
Is that time dead? lo! with a little rod
I did but touch the honey of romance -
And must I lose a soul's inheritance?
Helas!
Oscar Fingal O'flahertie Wills Wilde
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Poem topics: away, god, passion, romance, wisdom, holiday, play, clear, honey, touch, ancient, secret, reach, control, scroll, life, time, soul, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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