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Quotes by Oscar Wilde
Presidential Protest. May 7, 1834. Vol. IV. P. 110. Set in this stormy Northern sea, Queen of these restless fields of tide, England! what shall men say of thee, Before whose feet the worlds divide?— filed under Countries-England
As a pomegranate, cut in twain, White-seeded is her crimson mouth.— filed under Face
But when they had unloosed the linen band, Which swathed the Egyptian's body, -lo! was found, Closed in the wasted hollow of her hand, A little seed, which, sown in English ground, Did wondrous snow of starry blossoms bear, And spread rich odours through our springtide air.— filed under Flirting
Chrysanthemum. Chrysanthemums from gilded argosy Unload their gaudy scentless merchandise.— filed under Flowers-Clover
There is a tiny yellow daffodil, The butterfly can see it from afar, Although one summer evening's dew could fill Its little cup twice over, ere the star Had called the lazy shepherd to his fold, And be no prodigal.— filed under Flowers-Daffodil
Her hair is bound with myrtle leaves, (Green leaves upon her golden hair!) Green grasses through the yellow sheaves Of Autumn corn are not more fair.— filed under Hair
The wild Bee reels from bough to bough With his furry coat and his gauzy wing, Now in a lily cup, and now Setting a jacinth bell a-swing, In his wandering.— filed under Insects-Bee
Ah! somehow life is bigger after all Than any painted angel could we see The God that is within us!— filed under Life
Harvest Moon. And suddenly the moon withdraws Her sickle from the lightening skies, And to her sombre cavern flies, Wrapped in a veil of yellow gauze.— filed under Monuments
The yellow fog came creeping down The bridges, till the houses' walls Seemed changed to shadows, and St. Paul's Loomed like a bubble o'er the town.— filed under Morning
Her ivory hands on the ivory keys Strayed in a fitful fantasy, Like the silver gleam when the poplar trees Rustle their pale leaves listlessly Or the drifting foam of a restless sea When the waves show their teeth in the flying breeze.— filed under Name
And all the woods are alive with the murmur and sound of spring, And the rosebud breaks into pink on the climbing briar, And the crocus bed is a quivering moon of fire Girdled round with the belt of an amethyst ring.— filed under Sows
Laugh and the world laughs with you, Weep and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own. ELLA WHEELER WILCOx-Solitude. I have my beauty, -you your Art- Nay, do not start: One world was not enough for two Like me and you. S.— filed under Worship