Desespoir
The seasons send their ruin as they go, For in the spring the narciss shows its head Nor withers till the rose has flamed to red, And in the autumn purple violets blow, And the slim crocus stirs the winter snow; Wherefore yon leafless trees will bloom again And this grey land grow green with summer rain And send up cowslips for some boy to mow. But what of life whose bitter hungry sea Flows at our heels, and gloom of sunless night Covers the days which never more return? Ambition, love and all the thoughts that burn We lose too soon, and only find delight In withered husks of some dead memory.
Oscar Wilde’s other poems:
- Queen Henrietta Maria
- Sonnet Written in Holy Week at Genoa
- On the Massacre of the Christians in Bulgaria
- Sonnet on Hearing the Dies Irae Sung in the Sistine Chapel
- Le Jardin Des Tuileries
1382