Page:Writings of Oscar Wilde - Volume 01.djvu/57

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 * Yet who beneath this night of wars and fears,

From tranquil tower can watch the coming years; Who can foretell what joys the day shall bring, Or why before the dawn the linnets sing? Thou, even thou, mayst wake, as wakes the rose To crimson splendour from its grave of snows; As the rich corn-fields rise to red and gold From these brown lands, now stiff with Winter's cold As from the storm-rack comes a perfect star!


 * O much-loved city! I have wandered far

From the wave-circled islands of my home, Have seen the gloomy mystery of the Dome Rise slowly from the drear Campagna's way, Clothed in the royal purple of the day: I from the city of the violet crown Have watched the sun by Corinth's hill go down, And marked the "myriad laughter" of the sea From starlit hills of flower-starred Arkady; Yet back to thee returns my perfect love, As to its forest-nest the evening dove.