LE JARDIN



The lily's withered chalice falls
Around its rod of dusty gold,
And from the beech-trees on the wold
The last wood-pigeon coos and calls.

The gaudy leonine sunflower
Hangs black and barren on its stalk,
And down the windy garden walk
The dead leaves scatter, - hour by hour.

Pale privet-petals white as milk
Are blown into a snowy mass:
The roses lie upon the grass
Like little shreds of crimson silk.

Added: Aug 13 2004 | Viewed: 1713 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Oscar Wilde
Poem: 8. LE JARDIN
Volume: Charmides and Other Poems
Year: Published/Written in 1881
Poem of the Day on:
May 1 2009
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