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Oscar Wilde
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(1854-1900)
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A Vision
Two crownčd Kings, and One that stood alone
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Amor Intellectualis
Oft have we trod the vales of Castaly
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Apologia
Is it thy will that I should wax and wane,
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At Verona
How steep the stairs within Kings' houses are
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Athanasia
To that gaunt House of Art which lacks for naught
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Ava Maria Plena Gratia
Was this His coming! I had hoped to see
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Ave Imperatrix
Set in this stormy Northern sea,
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Ballade De Marguerite
I am weary of lying within the chase
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By The Arno
The oleander on the wall
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Camma
As one who poring on a Grecian urn
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Chanson
A ring of gold and a milk-white dove
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Charmides
He was a Grecian lad, who coming home
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E Tenebris
COME down, O Christ, and help me! reach thy hand,
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Easter Day
THE silver trumpets rang across the Dome:
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Endymion
THE apple trees are hung with gold,
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Fabien Dei Franchi
THE silent room, the heavy creeping shade,
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Helas!
TO drift with every passion till my soul
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Her Voice
THE wild bee reels from bough to bough
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Humanitad
IT is full Winter now: the trees are bare,
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Impression Du Matin
THE Thames nocturne of blue and gold
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Impression Du Voyage
THE sea was sapphire coloured, and the sky
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Impressions I. Les Silhouettes
THE sea is flecked with bars of grey
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Impressions II. La Fuite De La Lune
TO outer senses there is peace,
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In The Gold Room
HER ivory hands on the ivory keys
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Italia
ITALIA! thou art fallen, though with sheen
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La Bella Donna Della Mia Mente
MY limbs are wasted with a flame,
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Le Reveillon
THE sky is laced with fitful red,
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Libertatis Sacra Fames
ALBEIT nurtured in democracy,
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Louis Napoleon
EAGLE of Austerlitz! where were thy wings
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Madonna Mia
A LILY-GIRL, not made for this world's pain,
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Magdalen Walks
THE little white clouds are racing over the sky,
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My Voice
WITHIN this restless, hurried, modern world
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Panthea
NAY, let us walk from fire unto fire,
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Phźdre
How vain and dull this common world must seem
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Portia
I MARVEL not Bassanio was so bold
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Quantum Mutata
THERE was a time in Europe long ago
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Queen Henrietta Maria
IN the lone tent, waiting for victory,
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Quia Multum Amavi
DEAR Heart I think the young impassioned priest
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Requiescat
TREAD lightly, she is near
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Rome Unvisited
THE corn has turned from grey to red,
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San Miniato
SEE, I have climbed the mountain side
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Santa Decca
THE Gods are dead: no longer do we bring
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Serenade
THE western wind is blowing fair
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Silentium Amoris
AS oftentimes the too resplendent sun
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Sonnet
CHRIST, dost thou live indeed? or are thy bones
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Sonnet On Approaching Italy
I REACHED the Alps: the soul within me burned
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Sonnet On Hearing The Dies Ira Sung In The Sistine Chapel
NAY, Lord, not thus! white lilies in the spring,
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Sonnet To Liberty
NOT that I love thy children, whose dull eyes
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Sonnet Written In Holy Week At Genoa
I WANDERED in Scoglietto's green retreat,
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The Ballad Of Reading Gaol
He did not wear his scarlet coat,
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The Burden Of Itys
THIS English Thames is holier far than Rome,
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The Dole Of The King's Daughter
SEVEN stars in the still water,
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The Garden Of Eros
IT is full summer now, the heart of June,
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The Grave Of Keats
RID of the world's injustice, and his pain,
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The Grave Of Shelley
LIKE burnt-out torches by a sick man's bed
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The New Helen
WHERE hast thou been since round the walls of Troy
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Theocritus
O SINGER of Persephone!
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Theoretikos
THIS mighty empire hath but feet of clay:
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To Milton
MILTON! I think thy spirit hath passed away
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Tędium Vitę
To stab my youth with desperate knives, to wear
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Urbs Sacra Ęterna
ROME! what a scroll of History thine has been
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Vita Nuova
I STOOD by the unvintageable sea
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