Читать книгу Poems, with The Ballad of Reading Gaol - Оскар Уайльд, Wilde Oscar, F. H. Cornish - Страница 14

POEMS
ROSA MYSTICA
EASTER DAY

Оглавление

The silver trumpets rang across the Dome:

   The people knelt upon the ground with awe:

   And borne upon the necks of men I saw,

Like some great God, the Holy Lord of Rome.

Priest-like, he wore a robe more white than foam,

   And, king-like, swathed himself in royal red,

   Three crowns of gold rose high upon his head:

In splendour and in light the Pope passed home.

My heart stole back across wide wastes of years

   To One who wandered by a lonely sea,

   And sought in vain for any place of rest:

‘Foxes have holes, and every bird its nest.

   I, only I, must wander wearily,

   And bruise my feet, and drink wine salt with tears.’


Poems, with The Ballad of Reading Gaol

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