LE JARDIN DES TUILERIES



This winter air is keen and cold,
And keen and cold this winter sun,
But round my chair the children run
Like little things of dancing gold.

Sometimes about the painted kiosk
The mimic soldiers strut and stride,
Sometimes the blue-eyed brigands hide
In the bleak tangles of the bosk.

And sometimes, while the old nurse cons
Her book, they steal across the square,
And launch their paper navies where
Huge Triton writhes in greenish bronze.

And now in mimic flight they flee,
And now they rush, a boisterous band -
And, tiny hand on tiny hand,
Climb up the black and leafless tree.

Ah! cruel tree! if I were you,
And children climbed me, for their sake
Though it be winter I would break
Into spring blossoms white and blue!

Added: Aug 13 2004 | Viewed: 1859 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Oscar Wilde
Poem: 13. LE JARDIN DES TUILERIES
Volume: Charmides and Other Poems
Year: Published/Written in 1881
There are no comments for this poem. Why not be the first one to post something about it?

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, LE JARDIN DES TUILERIES, has not yet been commented on. You can click here to be the first to post a comment about it. Of course you can also always discuss poems by Oscar Wilde with others on the Poetry Connection poetry forum!