OSCAR WILDE
The work was done.The spirit-moulders of immortal soulsWiped from their brows the sweat and washed their hands,And standing by, in full contentment gazedUpon their wondrous work.A masterpiece! it was a masterpiece!A genius to be born unto the world,One more to swell that galaxy of starsThat makes the cosmic bosom swell with pride.Another inextinguishable starTo scintillate throughout eternity.The angels stood, heads bowed in reverenceBefore what was to be the poet Wilde,And as they stood, these proud progenitors,In blissful contemplation of their child,There fell upon them, as a shadow castBy purple clouds upon a limpid lake,A sadness that no human voice could tell.Forebodings of the suffering of WildeDepressed them so that, kneeling down, they wept.They wept over the dire humiliationAwaiting him who is the pride of God,And over man’s stupidity they wept—The colossal stupidity of man.
The work was done.The spirit-moulders of immortal soulsWiped from their brows the sweat and washed their hands,And standing by, in full contentment gazedUpon their wondrous work.A masterpiece! it was a masterpiece!A genius to be born unto the world,One more to swell that galaxy of starsThat makes the cosmic bosom swell with pride.Another inextinguishable starTo scintillate throughout eternity.The angels stood, heads bowed in reverenceBefore what was to be the poet Wilde,And as they stood, these proud progenitors,In blissful contemplation of their child,There fell upon them, as a shadow castBy purple clouds upon a limpid lake,A sadness that no human voice could tell.Forebodings of the suffering of WildeDepressed them so that, kneeling down, they wept.They wept over the dire humiliationAwaiting him who is the pride of God,And over man’s stupidity they wept—The colossal stupidity of man.
The work was done.The spirit-moulders of immortal soulsWiped from their brows the sweat and washed their hands,And standing by, in full contentment gazedUpon their wondrous work.
The work was done.
The spirit-moulders of immortal souls
Wiped from their brows the sweat and washed their hands,
And standing by, in full contentment gazed
Upon their wondrous work.
A masterpiece! it was a masterpiece!A genius to be born unto the world,One more to swell that galaxy of starsThat makes the cosmic bosom swell with pride.Another inextinguishable starTo scintillate throughout eternity.
A masterpiece! it was a masterpiece!
A genius to be born unto the world,
One more to swell that galaxy of stars
That makes the cosmic bosom swell with pride.
Another inextinguishable star
To scintillate throughout eternity.
The angels stood, heads bowed in reverenceBefore what was to be the poet Wilde,And as they stood, these proud progenitors,In blissful contemplation of their child,There fell upon them, as a shadow castBy purple clouds upon a limpid lake,A sadness that no human voice could tell.
The angels stood, heads bowed in reverence
Before what was to be the poet Wilde,
And as they stood, these proud progenitors,
In blissful contemplation of their child,
There fell upon them, as a shadow cast
By purple clouds upon a limpid lake,
A sadness that no human voice could tell.
Forebodings of the suffering of WildeDepressed them so that, kneeling down, they wept.They wept over the dire humiliationAwaiting him who is the pride of God,And over man’s stupidity they wept—The colossal stupidity of man.
Forebodings of the suffering of Wilde
Depressed them so that, kneeling down, they wept.
They wept over the dire humiliation
Awaiting him who is the pride of God,
And over man’s stupidity they wept—
The colossal stupidity of man.