This mighty empire hath but feet of clay:
Of all its ancient chivalry and might
Our little island is forsaken quite:
Some enemy hath stolen its crown of bay,
And from its hills that voice hath passed away
Which spake of Freedom: O come out of it,
Come out of it, my Soul, thou art not fit
For this vile traffic-house, where day by day
Wisdom and reverence are sold at mart,
And the rude people rage with ignorant cries
Against an heritage of centuries.
It mars my calm: wherefore in dreams of Art
And loftiest culture I would stand apart,
Neither for God, nor for his enemies.
Theoretikos
Oscar Wilde
(1)
Poem topics: away, culture, freedom, god, house, people, wisdom, voice, soul, stolen, crown, enemy, ancient, stand, ignorant, island, Valentine's Day, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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