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The Collected Poems of Oscar Wilde
Wilde, glamorous and notorious, more famous as a playwright or prisoner than as a poet, invites readers of his verse to meet an unknown and intimate figure. The poetry of his formative years includes the haunting elegy to his young sister and the grieving lyric at the death of his father. The religious drama of his romance with Rome is captured here, as well as its resolution in his renewed love of ancient Greece. He explores forbidden sexual desires, pays homage to the great theatre stars and poets of his day, observes cityscapes with impressionist intensity. His final masterpiece, The Ballad of Reading Gaol, tells the painful story of his own prison experience and calls for universal compassion. This edition of Wilde's verse presents the full range of his achievement as a poet.
Unknown Binding
First published January 1, 1909
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About the author
Oscar Wilde
5,268 books38.6k followersOscar Fingal O'Fflahertie Wills Wilde was an Irish poet and playwright. After writing in different forms throughout the 1880s, he became one of the most popular playwrights in London in the early 1890s. He is best remembered for his epigrams and plays, his novel The Picture of Dorian Gray, and his criminal conviction for gross indecency for homosexual acts.
Wilde's parents were Anglo-Irish intellectuals in Dublin. In his youth, Wilde learned to speak fluent French and German. At university, he read Greats; he demonstrated himself to be an exceptional classicist, first at Trinity College Dublin, then at Magdalen College, Oxford. He became associated with the emerging philosophy of aestheticism, led by two of his tutors, Walter Pater and John Ruskin. After university, Wilde moved to London into fashionable cultural and social circles.
Wilde tried his hand at various literary activities: he wrote a play, published a book of poems, lectured in the United States and Canada on "The English Renaissance" in art and interior decoration, and then returned to London where he lectured on his American travels and wrote reviews for various periodicals. Known for his biting wit, flamboyant dress and glittering conversational skill, Wilde became one of the best-known personalities of his day. At the turn of the 1890s, he refined his ideas about the supremacy of art in a series of dialogues and essays, and incorporated themes of decadence, duplicity, and beauty into what would be his only novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890). Wilde returned to drama, writing Salome (1891) in French while in Paris, but it was refused a licence for England due to an absolute prohibition on the portrayal of Biblical subjects on the English stage. Undiscouraged, Wilde produced four society comedies in the early 1890s, which made him one of the most successful playwrights of late-Victorian London.
At the height of his fame and success, while An Ideal Husband (1895) and The Importance of Being Earnest (1895) were still being performed in London, Wilde issued a civil writ against John Sholto Douglas, the 9th Marquess of Queensberry for criminal libel. The Marquess was the father of Wilde's lover, Lord Alfred Douglas. The libel hearings unearthed evidence that caused Wilde to drop his charges and led to his own arrest and criminal prosecution for gross indecency with other males. The jury was unable to reach a verdict and so a retrial was ordered. In the second trial Wilde was convicted and sentenced to two years' hard labour, the maximum penalty, and was jailed from 1895 to 1897. During his last year in prison he wrote De Profundis (published posthumously in abridged form in 1905), a long letter that discusses his spiritual journey through his trials and is a dark counterpoint to his earlier philosophy of pleasure. On the day of his release, he caught the overnight steamer to France, never to return to Britain or Ireland. In France and Italy, he wrote his last work, The Ballad of Reading Gaol (1898), a long poem commemorating the harsh rhythms of prison life.
Wilde's parents were Anglo-Irish intellectuals in Dublin. In his youth, Wilde learned to speak fluent French and German. At university, he read Greats; he demonstrated himself to be an exceptional classicist, first at Trinity College Dublin, then at Magdalen College, Oxford. He became associated with the emerging philosophy of aestheticism, led by two of his tutors, Walter Pater and John Ruskin. After university, Wilde moved to London into fashionable cultural and social circles.
Wilde tried his hand at various literary activities: he wrote a play, published a book of poems, lectured in the United States and Canada on "The English Renaissance" in art and interior decoration, and then returned to London where he lectured on his American travels and wrote reviews for various periodicals. Known for his biting wit, flamboyant dress and glittering conversational skill, Wilde became one of the best-known personalities of his day. At the turn of the 1890s, he refined his ideas about the supremacy of art in a series of dialogues and essays, and incorporated themes of decadence, duplicity, and beauty into what would be his only novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890). Wilde returned to drama, writing Salome (1891) in French while in Paris, but it was refused a licence for England due to an absolute prohibition on the portrayal of Biblical subjects on the English stage. Undiscouraged, Wilde produced four society comedies in the early 1890s, which made him one of the most successful playwrights of late-Victorian London.
At the height of his fame and success, while An Ideal Husband (1895) and The Importance of Being Earnest (1895) were still being performed in London, Wilde issued a civil writ against John Sholto Douglas, the 9th Marquess of Queensberry for criminal libel. The Marquess was the father of Wilde's lover, Lord Alfred Douglas. The libel hearings unearthed evidence that caused Wilde to drop his charges and led to his own arrest and criminal prosecution for gross indecency with other males. The jury was unable to reach a verdict and so a retrial was ordered. In the second trial Wilde was convicted and sentenced to two years' hard labour, the maximum penalty, and was jailed from 1895 to 1897. During his last year in prison he wrote De Profundis (published posthumously in abridged form in 1905), a long letter that discusses his spiritual journey through his trials and is a dark counterpoint to his earlier philosophy of pleasure. On the day of his release, he caught the overnight steamer to France, never to return to Britain or Ireland. In France and Italy, he wrote his last work, The Ballad of Reading Gaol (1898), a long poem commemorating the harsh rhythms of prison life.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 82 reviews
July 20, 2017
Woo hoo! So that's a wrap on Oscar's poetry. I can't believe that I read every single verse that my trash child ever decided to publish like whuuat? Unsurprisingly, I adored some of his poems, and loathed others. Poetry is always hit or miss for me.
So why didn't Oscar blossom into one of the age's foremost poets? The answer is simple: he simply transferred his poetry-making impulse to plays and prose. (Besides the fact that at his time poetry no longer enjoyed the prestige which it had had in the days of Wordsworth and Keats.)
His poetry is definitely inferior to his plays and prose. In the latter you will find much more 'truth', meaning that there Oscar emptied all of his personal feelings and concealed his autobiography – and thus the plays in themselves hold a great deal more poetry than his acutal poems (with the exception of The Ballad of Reading Goal of course!).
Many of his early lyrics chronicle his conflicting responses to his experience of Rome as a young man. Being at once repelled and fascinated by Popish opulence, again and again Oscar's breath is taken away by the baroque magnificence of Rome, against which he usually sets the more chastely proportioned symmetries of ancient Greece. I was really surprised to find that so many of his poems dealt with ancient myths and heroes, and that he used a very classical style and structure. It was fascinating to read. If you're interested in a taste I would recommend starting with the ballad Charmides or Ravenna, his ode to the Italian city of the same name.
Oscar has the reputation of being an art-for-art's-sake bohemian, but if you actually look into his poetry you will see that the dandy was at heart a moralist who wished to preach his parables to people in some acceptably sugared form. This form of traditionalism is also something that can be found in his short story collections The House of Pomegranates and The Happy Prince and Other Stories. So I think that Oscar is often misrepresentated in the media who seems to overlook his more serious and conventional side.
My favorite poem of his – and also my favorite piece of literary history – is his final and most memorable contribution to English poetry: The Ballad of Reading Goal, first published under the pseudonym 'Prisoner No. C.3.3'. In it he processes the horrible years that he had to spent in jail. In case you didn't know Oscar was sentenced to two years of hard labour, because he defended his homosexual relationships at court. So the ballad is his treatise on the injust law system in England and a look at the horrific conditions under which the prisoners have to toil. It is a truly gut-wrenching piece, and never fails to make me cry.
And two other poems that I highly enjoyed where Portia, his take on Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice and Portia's Bond, and Ave Imperatrix in which he criticized British participation in wars:
But the life of man is sorrowOscar's poetry is very different from what I expected. Before going into this I didn't consider that the Poems were one of the first works that Oscar published, he wrote Vera before that but that was it. So his poetry is a great look at (as I like to call him) fetus!Oscar – a great look at the man before he discovered his snark and cynicism.
And death is a relief from pain,
For love only lasts till tomorrow
And life without love is vain.
So why didn't Oscar blossom into one of the age's foremost poets? The answer is simple: he simply transferred his poetry-making impulse to plays and prose. (Besides the fact that at his time poetry no longer enjoyed the prestige which it had had in the days of Wordsworth and Keats.)
His poetry is definitely inferior to his plays and prose. In the latter you will find much more 'truth', meaning that there Oscar emptied all of his personal feelings and concealed his autobiography – and thus the plays in themselves hold a great deal more poetry than his acutal poems (with the exception of The Ballad of Reading Goal of course!).
Many of his early lyrics chronicle his conflicting responses to his experience of Rome as a young man. Being at once repelled and fascinated by Popish opulence, again and again Oscar's breath is taken away by the baroque magnificence of Rome, against which he usually sets the more chastely proportioned symmetries of ancient Greece. I was really surprised to find that so many of his poems dealt with ancient myths and heroes, and that he used a very classical style and structure. It was fascinating to read. If you're interested in a taste I would recommend starting with the ballad Charmides or Ravenna, his ode to the Italian city of the same name.
Oscar has the reputation of being an art-for-art's-sake bohemian, but if you actually look into his poetry you will see that the dandy was at heart a moralist who wished to preach his parables to people in some acceptably sugared form. This form of traditionalism is also something that can be found in his short story collections The House of Pomegranates and The Happy Prince and Other Stories. So I think that Oscar is often misrepresentated in the media who seems to overlook his more serious and conventional side.
My favorite poem of his – and also my favorite piece of literary history – is his final and most memorable contribution to English poetry: The Ballad of Reading Goal, first published under the pseudonym 'Prisoner No. C.3.3'. In it he processes the horrible years that he had to spent in jail. In case you didn't know Oscar was sentenced to two years of hard labour, because he defended his homosexual relationships at court. So the ballad is his treatise on the injust law system in England and a look at the horrific conditions under which the prisoners have to toil. It is a truly gut-wrenching piece, and never fails to make me cry.
In Reading goal by Reading townAnother poem that stood out to me is Requiescat. It was written in memory of his younger sister who died at the age of nine, and the following verses just get me every time:
There is a pit of shame,
And in it lies a wreched man
Eaten by teeth of flame,
In a burning winding-sheet he lies,
And his grave has got no name.
Tread lightly, she is nearThe image of young Oscar standing beside the grave of his sister picturing her beneath the earth evokes so many emotions in me, as the kids would say: all the feeeels.
Under the snow
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.
And two other poems that I highly enjoyed where Portia, his take on Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice and Portia's Bond, and Ave Imperatrix in which he criticized British participation in wars:
And thou whose wounds are never healed,Hot damn, Oscar. I love you!
Whose weary race is never won,
O Cromwell's England! Must thou yield
For every inch of ground a son?
May 20, 2020
The last of Wilde’s work I had left to read, his poems. While he is much better known as a playwright, novelist and storyteller than he is a poet, his poems are - like all his work - incredibly well written.
I should clarify that I’m not really a poetry person and that I’ve read very little poetry in my life. So a lot of the poems in this collection - the religious ones, the ones about Ancient Greece and Rome, etc - were very ‘meh’ to me. But the poems in which he got more personal, the thinly-veiled metaphors for his relationships and sexuality and death and pain and heartbreak, those even I could tell were really very good. Especially his epic The Ballad of Reading Gaol, that was my favourite.
I should clarify that I’m not really a poetry person and that I’ve read very little poetry in my life. So a lot of the poems in this collection - the religious ones, the ones about Ancient Greece and Rome, etc - were very ‘meh’ to me. But the poems in which he got more personal, the thinly-veiled metaphors for his relationships and sexuality and death and pain and heartbreak, those even I could tell were really very good. Especially his epic The Ballad of Reading Gaol, that was my favourite.
January 26, 2021
To put my thoughts in one sentence: Wilde has such a wonderful way of making his reader want to pack up and ship off to some quiet land in Europe where the flowers are blooming year-round, the mountains are towering and help you recognize how truly small you are, and the markets are bustling with locals who just talk about life. Wilde just makes me want to spend time outdoors, and maybe that's his whole point - get outside. stop fretting so much about the small worries and start recognizing the great beauties of this world and how truly incredible they make living.
anyways, i love Wilde, and now I want to go back to Italy :-)
anyways, i love Wilde, and now I want to go back to Italy :-)
June 30, 2023
I started this collection 5 years ago! Pretty shocking to think about, to be honest. I want to thank Alba for her patience because she bought it for me only so I would read The ballad of Reading Gaol but I decided I had to read it all in order... I'm not sorry about it because it does give an interesting perspective to read his previous poetry but I did take my chances (this year I've finished two books she gifted me when we hadn't started dating, or almost... but I didn't have a doubt we would get this far hehe)
It's true that Oscar Wilde is part of a poetic movement I don't usually read or know anything about its quality. The poems do read like an intense classic Literature student's, just constantly citing Dante and Roman mythology and his trips around Italy, as well as some war-related. My favourite ones were about his university life specifically, they reminded me of my time in university as well. Also Panthea, from his long-form poems. Otherwise they were a bit hard for me to get through, because they were pages and pages long and very ambiguous to an inexpert reader such as me. Reading the introduction afterwards did help to recontextualise them.
With regards to the Ballad, I found it even better in comparison to his previous poetry. It's such a tonal shift from the romantic tales of gods and nymphs that it's even more striking. I really loved it, of course. My favourite quote was, without a doubt, "outcasts always mourn": I then learnt that it's the quote on Wilde's grave, which makes it even more powerful. I hope I'll visit it one day.
Overall, although it's probably true that reading all his poetry is not that necessary, I did like the experience of thinking of Oscar Wilde in new terms. I hope I'll get to read more from him in the future, of course
It's true that Oscar Wilde is part of a poetic movement I don't usually read or know anything about its quality. The poems do read like an intense classic Literature student's, just constantly citing Dante and Roman mythology and his trips around Italy, as well as some war-related. My favourite ones were about his university life specifically, they reminded me of my time in university as well. Also Panthea, from his long-form poems. Otherwise they were a bit hard for me to get through, because they were pages and pages long and very ambiguous to an inexpert reader such as me. Reading the introduction afterwards did help to recontextualise them.
With regards to the Ballad, I found it even better in comparison to his previous poetry. It's such a tonal shift from the romantic tales of gods and nymphs that it's even more striking. I really loved it, of course. My favourite quote was, without a doubt, "outcasts always mourn": I then learnt that it's the quote on Wilde's grave, which makes it even more powerful. I hope I'll visit it one day.
Overall, although it's probably true that reading all his poetry is not that necessary, I did like the experience of thinking of Oscar Wilde in new terms. I hope I'll get to read more from him in the future, of course
January 13, 2024
Oscar Wilde is natuurlijk een icoon, lekker tegendraads en poëtisch. Sommige gedichten waren lastig te begrijpen, wat niet heel gek is voor dit niveau, maar verder goed te doen! Leuk voor tussendoor :)
—-
Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
Some kill their love when they are young,
And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.
Some love too little, some too long,
Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.
—-
Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
Some kill their love when they are young,
And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.
Some love too little, some too long,
Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.
February 19, 2023
never cried while reading poetry before
some faves:
Nay peace: behind my prison's blinded bars
I do possess what none can take away
My love, and all the glory of the stars.
(At Verona)
*
Well, if my heart must break,
Dear love, for your sake.
It will break in music, I know,
Poets' hearts break so.
But strange that I was not told
That the brain can hold
In a tiny ivory cell
God's heaven and hell.
(To L. L.)
*
Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
(The Ballad of Reading Gaol)
some faves:
Nay peace: behind my prison's blinded bars
I do possess what none can take away
My love, and all the glory of the stars.
(At Verona)
*
Well, if my heart must break,
Dear love, for your sake.
It will break in music, I know,
Poets' hearts break so.
But strange that I was not told
That the brain can hold
In a tiny ivory cell
God's heaven and hell.
(To L. L.)
*
Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
(The Ballad of Reading Gaol)
February 8, 2016
Okay, so... next to his prose and play-writing - some my most cherished literary works in all of existence - I simply can't reward his poems the same rating as them (four stars), hence the three stars given.
Here's the thing: I personally believe that Wilde is one of the best story-tellers out there, especially, (and I cannot emphasize this enough!!!) when it comes to intricate and scrupulous characterization. For me there is absolutely no question; he is The Genius of characterization. Capital letters intended. He masters the skill of luring you into the fictional world. There is an unnatural, all-consuming force that makes you utterly absorbed by the characters of his imagination. At least from my experience.
Anddddd, although I still really admire them and find them incredible pieces of poetry, and although I know his poems are still greater and much more elegant and graceful and whatnot than anything I could ever write, it is for this reason (that, at times, their short length limits them to superficial characterization, the thing I usually love the most about his writing) that I can't give them four stars. Simply because I am incapable of properly comparing them with, say, "The Picture of Dorian Gray". (<3 <3 <3)
If one day I happen to be skimming through his poems again and suddenly feel an overpowering enlightenment of some sort, I will update this review.
Of course, this wouldn't be complete without one of my favorite quotes. This one is from "The Dole of the King's Daughter":
"What do they there so stark and dead?
(There is blood upon her hand)
Why are the lilies flecked with red?
(There is blood on the river sand.)"
Side note: I've seen him receive some criticism for rhyming almost all of the damn time. Here's what I have to say: #StopTheRhymeHate2k16! I fucking love me some good rhymes. They're beautiful forms of art and skill, when used effectively. And he knows how to do so.
Much love, Wilde. You're still my fav, all is good.
Here's the thing: I personally believe that Wilde is one of the best story-tellers out there, especially, (and I cannot emphasize this enough!!!) when it comes to intricate and scrupulous characterization. For me there is absolutely no question; he is The Genius of characterization. Capital letters intended. He masters the skill of luring you into the fictional world. There is an unnatural, all-consuming force that makes you utterly absorbed by the characters of his imagination. At least from my experience.
Anddddd, although I still really admire them and find them incredible pieces of poetry, and although I know his poems are still greater and much more elegant and graceful and whatnot than anything I could ever write, it is for this reason (that, at times, their short length limits them to superficial characterization, the thing I usually love the most about his writing) that I can't give them four stars. Simply because I am incapable of properly comparing them with, say, "The Picture of Dorian Gray". (<3 <3 <3)
If one day I happen to be skimming through his poems again and suddenly feel an overpowering enlightenment of some sort, I will update this review.
Of course, this wouldn't be complete without one of my favorite quotes. This one is from "The Dole of the King's Daughter":
"What do they there so stark and dead?
(There is blood upon her hand)
Why are the lilies flecked with red?
(There is blood on the river sand.)"
Side note: I've seen him receive some criticism for rhyming almost all of the damn time. Here's what I have to say: #StopTheRhymeHate2k16! I fucking love me some good rhymes. They're beautiful forms of art and skill, when used effectively. And he knows how to do so.
Much love, Wilde. You're still my fav, all is good.
June 11, 2025
Ooooooohhh these were so good!
A huge variety of poetry (it really doesn't feel like he ever found his particular style) with something for everyone? Probably?
I found a couple of the long ones pretty exhausting, but some of them were really good as stories and I really love his imagery throughout.
The award for funniest poem goes to The Sphynx for reading like a fantasy repeatedly broken by the dreamer going 'Wait no this isn't good I can do better'. Also the rhymes are great (tip: Sphinx rhymes with Lynx, Basilisks with obelisks and Hippogriffs with Hieroglyphs for all your Mythical Creature Rhyming Needs)
"Her hair is bound with myrtle leaves,
(Green leaves upon her golden hair!)
Green grasses through the yellow sheaves
Of autumn corn are not more fair."
A huge variety of poetry (it really doesn't feel like he ever found his particular style) with something for everyone? Probably?
I found a couple of the long ones pretty exhausting, but some of them were really good as stories and I really love his imagery throughout.
The award for funniest poem goes to The Sphynx for reading like a fantasy repeatedly broken by the dreamer going 'Wait no this isn't good I can do better'. Also the rhymes are great (tip: Sphinx rhymes with Lynx, Basilisks with obelisks and Hippogriffs with Hieroglyphs for all your Mythical Creature Rhyming Needs)
"Her hair is bound with myrtle leaves,
(Green leaves upon her golden hair!)
Green grasses through the yellow sheaves
Of autumn corn are not more fair."
March 29, 2021
Hmmm. The poems were good enough, but I kept comparing them to his brilliant plays, and that's why his poem collection is only a 3 star book--
sorry papa Wilde
sorry papa Wilde
April 21, 2022
officially giving up on this. i want to like poetry so bad but i simply don’t and it’s depressing!!!
January 13, 2025
He dedicated poems to Keats, Shelley, and Dante… I’ve never related more to something in my entire life
June 6, 2018
I only didn't like Charmides soooo..
November 12, 2022
Wilde was very much a prose writer and one who really liked coming up with prolix, overladen sentences à la Dorian Gray. It's not terribly surprising then that the strict ordonnances of meter escape him; Charmides for example which certainly is in pentameter hardly contains iambs - with each verse being marred by a deluge of trochaic substitutions; the heptameter that finishes off each sixain is similarly unsatisfying:
And writhed its snaky horrors through the shield,
And gaped aghast with bloodless lips and cold
In passion impotent, while with blind gaze
The blinking owl between the feet hooted in shrill amaze.
This isn't terrible but it's not amazing either, it doesn't help that English has an overabundance of great poetry and that this falls very short of the standard. This shaky, unsteady rhythm more or less ruins the entire anthology inasmuch as you always desperately want him to say what he wants to say in prose because he hardly seems capable of doing it in verse.
Wilde's great need to épater les bourgeois which is something I feel is particularly marked in his 'Decadent' works adds a sense of the artificial and the affected to all of them, this is no exception. Although given that Dorian Gray is universally adored and written in basically the same style, I might very well be missing something.
And writhed its snaky horrors through the shield,
And gaped aghast with bloodless lips and cold
In passion impotent, while with blind gaze
The blinking owl between the feet hooted in shrill amaze.
This isn't terrible but it's not amazing either, it doesn't help that English has an overabundance of great poetry and that this falls very short of the standard. This shaky, unsteady rhythm more or less ruins the entire anthology inasmuch as you always desperately want him to say what he wants to say in prose because he hardly seems capable of doing it in verse.
Wilde's great need to épater les bourgeois which is something I feel is particularly marked in his 'Decadent' works adds a sense of the artificial and the affected to all of them, this is no exception. Although given that Dorian Gray is universally adored and written in basically the same style, I might very well be missing something.
July 4, 2024
Have you ever read Keats? Yeah, so has Oscar Wilde.
Seriously though, these poems aren't bad. Their style just feels derivative of the older Romantic writers. And his emulation rarely lives quite up to their standard (in my opinion). I often felt I'd rather be reading Keats' Ode on a Grecian Urn.
Wilde is clearly fond of Greek mythology, which comes through in many poems here. His knowledge of it is impressive and very genuine - but the Romantics' love of the Classics means this still doesn't feel original.
However, Wilde does write the occasional banger of a line. A few poems I really enjoyed. The Ballad of Reading Gaol is, fittingly, a standout. I thought it was uneven but still very worth a gander.
Seriously though, these poems aren't bad. Their style just feels derivative of the older Romantic writers. And his emulation rarely lives quite up to their standard (in my opinion). I often felt I'd rather be reading Keats' Ode on a Grecian Urn.
Wilde is clearly fond of Greek mythology, which comes through in many poems here. His knowledge of it is impressive and very genuine - but the Romantics' love of the Classics means this still doesn't feel original.
However, Wilde does write the occasional banger of a line. A few poems I really enjoyed. The Ballad of Reading Gaol is, fittingly, a standout. I thought it was uneven but still very worth a gander.
February 1, 2025
Well, this review will be quite late and maybe i won't write it with the same emotions which i felt when i was reading this book, because i have already written one long perfect review of it but i deleted it by accident and so now i am writing it again but well, it won't be the same
Sorry for profanating english in this review, i am not always sure if long sentences that i am writing are gramatically correct
So, as it is quite impossible to write a poetry book, where everyone will love every single poem, in this book there where poems i am obsessed with and the ones which where plain and uninteresting, but it is my opinion and every person will like different poems from this book
And this is really amazing, because there are so MANY different poems about different topics written in different ways in this book that everyone will find something for themselves here
The things i loved the most in these poems were amazingly (hope that this word exists☆) beautiful metaphors and comparisons used by oscar wilde to describe nearly everything (i am such a big fan of weird comparisons which i would have never thought of) and also i really enjoyed some of the topics he has chosen to write about
And here my favourite poems were "panthea" (this one is absolutely absolutely stunning, i am OBSESSED) "to l.l." (i really liked the unique form of this one) and "the symphony in yellow" (it was just so.. i don't have word for this, it was just.. yellow, it feeled like this colour.. i don't know if anyone understands what i mean☆)
Another poems i am fascinated by are the ones describing more disturbing and hard topics, because they were written in this strange, kind of mysterious way, and you could feel this unpleasant in a way atmosphere really well
These were "the dole of king's daughter" (the metaphors where amazing), "the harlot's house" (here i will just give the quote: "sometimes a horrible marionette
Came out, and smoked its cigarette
Upon the steps like a live thing") and of course, "the ballad of reading gaol" (i confirm that it's and absolute masterpiece)
Well, i won't write much about the poems i didn't like, beacuse it wasn't the fact that they were poorly written, but i just didn't enjoy the topics of them
At the end of this review i just have to say how much i love different forms of poems which wilde used in this book and how various they were (i really enjoyed that☆☆)
Overall, i am still obsessed with oscar wilde (i guess it is getting a little bit unhealthy, the fact how much i love his work)
"But strange that i was not told
That the brain can hold
In a tiny ivory cell
God's heaven and hell."
Sorry for profanating english in this review, i am not always sure if long sentences that i am writing are gramatically correct
So, as it is quite impossible to write a poetry book, where everyone will love every single poem, in this book there where poems i am obsessed with and the ones which where plain and uninteresting, but it is my opinion and every person will like different poems from this book
And this is really amazing, because there are so MANY different poems about different topics written in different ways in this book that everyone will find something for themselves here
The things i loved the most in these poems were amazingly (hope that this word exists☆) beautiful metaphors and comparisons used by oscar wilde to describe nearly everything (i am such a big fan of weird comparisons which i would have never thought of) and also i really enjoyed some of the topics he has chosen to write about
And here my favourite poems were "panthea" (this one is absolutely absolutely stunning, i am OBSESSED) "to l.l." (i really liked the unique form of this one) and "the symphony in yellow" (it was just so.. i don't have word for this, it was just.. yellow, it feeled like this colour.. i don't know if anyone understands what i mean☆)
Another poems i am fascinated by are the ones describing more disturbing and hard topics, because they were written in this strange, kind of mysterious way, and you could feel this unpleasant in a way atmosphere really well
These were "the dole of king's daughter" (the metaphors where amazing), "the harlot's house" (here i will just give the quote: "sometimes a horrible marionette
Came out, and smoked its cigarette
Upon the steps like a live thing") and of course, "the ballad of reading gaol" (i confirm that it's and absolute masterpiece)
Well, i won't write much about the poems i didn't like, beacuse it wasn't the fact that they were poorly written, but i just didn't enjoy the topics of them
At the end of this review i just have to say how much i love different forms of poems which wilde used in this book and how various they were (i really enjoyed that☆☆)
Overall, i am still obsessed with oscar wilde (i guess it is getting a little bit unhealthy, the fact how much i love his work)
"But strange that i was not told
That the brain can hold
In a tiny ivory cell
God's heaven and hell."
September 27, 2021
As a sort of disclaimer, I must say I'm partial to Wilde's poetry for nostalgic reasons, having been acquainted with these for a fairly long time now.
Wilde the poet is much more intimate and personal than Wilde the playwright. Here one sees his gentle side, often overlooked in the brilliance of his better known traits of wit and sarcasm. His style is romantic and decadent, he idolizes Keats, and makes lots of mythological references.
Most of these poems make for light reading and enjoyment, and leave with you a lingering pleasant feeling. Others are more personal and deeply felt. Some of my favourites:
Requiescat (written for his little sister who died aged ten)
Favourite verses from "Roses and Rue" (to L.L.):
Other personal favourites:
- Apologia
- Magdalen Walks
- Her voice
- Le jardin des Tuileries
- Ravenna
- Taedium Vitae
- In the forest
- Desespoir
- Endymion
- Garden of Eros
Wilde the poet is much more intimate and personal than Wilde the playwright. Here one sees his gentle side, often overlooked in the brilliance of his better known traits of wit and sarcasm. His style is romantic and decadent, he idolizes Keats, and makes lots of mythological references.
Most of these poems make for light reading and enjoyment, and leave with you a lingering pleasant feeling. Others are more personal and deeply felt. Some of my favourites:
Requiescat (written for his little sister who died aged ten)
"Tread lightly, she is near
Under the snow
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow"
Favourite verses from "Roses and Rue" (to L.L.):
"You were always afraid of a shower,
Just like a flower:
I remember you started and ran
When the rain began.
I remember I never could catch you,
For no one could match you
You had wonderful, luminous fleet,
Little wings to your feet.
I remember so well the room,
And the lilac bloom
That beat at the dripping pane
In the warm June rain;"
Other personal favourites:
- Apologia
- Magdalen Walks
- Her voice
- Le jardin des Tuileries
- Ravenna
- Taedium Vitae
- In the forest
- Desespoir
- Endymion
- Garden of Eros
January 19, 2025
4.5⭐️
“yet each man kills the thing he loves,
by each let this be heard,
some do it with a bitter look,
some with a flattering word,
the coward does it with a kiss,
the brave man with a sword!
some kill their love when they are young,
and some when they are old;
some strangle with the hands of Lust,
some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
the dead so soon grow cold.
Some love too little, some too long,
Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.”
my mind is his canvas and he’s the painter. this is poetry and i love for this art. oscar wilde you will always be loved!
“yet each man kills the thing he loves,
by each let this be heard,
some do it with a bitter look,
some with a flattering word,
the coward does it with a kiss,
the brave man with a sword!
some kill their love when they are young,
and some when they are old;
some strangle with the hands of Lust,
some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
the dead so soon grow cold.
Some love too little, some too long,
Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.”
my mind is his canvas and he’s the painter. this is poetry and i love for this art. oscar wilde you will always be loved!
November 2, 2023
After being completely blown away by The Picture of Dorian Gray, I had high expectations for this book and it did not disappoint. I found Wilde’s writing more compelling than ever and his poetry as fascinating as his novel. In his poems he evokes art and mythology, romance and heartbreak, and surprisingly political issues. I must say that even if I loved Wilde’s more traditional poems, what really made the difference in this collection was the engaged pieces : “Ave Imperiatrix “( a critic of British imperialism) and the heartbreaking “Ballad of Reading Gaol” that describes his imprisonment. With his melancholic boldness, Wilde remains a timeless genius that I can definitely call, after reading his poetry, one of my favorite authors.
August 25, 2017
there were some parts i didn't quite get (lots of mythology) but other than that, this is absolutely beautiful! oscar wilde is the best :')
April 11, 2023
a few great poems in here but most didn’t quite deliver
Read
January 23, 2025Rating and review to come. I’m still very new and unsure with poetry, but I can tell you some of these took my breath away.
March 28, 2014
Due to the nature of this book this review cannot be the whole story but taking separate pieces and and an overview and some of the thoughts and feelings it invoked in me I hope it will give a general impression.
I read The picture of dorian Gray earlier this year and loved the 'poetic' way Oscar Wilde wrote so it was only natural I should go for a book of his poetry as my next foray into his work, I wasn't disappointed.
Oscar Wilde born Dublin Ireland 16/10/1854 was a proponent of the Aesthetic movement - a theory of art and literature that emphasized the pursuit of beauty for its own sake rather than to promote any political or social viewpoint. That being said one of his best known works The Ballad of reading gaol which was his last finished, published piece and written whilst in self imposed exile in France and written also after he spent 2 years doing hard labour in said prison was certainly a thought provoking piece.
The Ballad of Reading gaol is a poem about a condemned prisoner who is set to be hanged and the thoughts and emotions that provokes in the author
I love the poem as a whole but taken from it here are a few verses you may be familiar with and that left a lasting and moving impression on me.
I never saw a man who looked
with such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
which prisoners call the sky.
And at every drifting cloud that went
With sails of silver by,
This verse shows to me how trapped and closed in the prisoners must have felt to view the vast expanse of sky that we as free people can see, as a small tent above their heads.
Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
by each let this be heard,
some do it with a bitter look,
some with a flattering word,
the coward does it with a kiss ,
the brave man with a sword.
This shows to me how fickle and bitter Oscar Wilde found the world. He went from the darling of literature to penniless ex jail bird.
Charmides is another of the longer poems in this volume and it is probably the most notorious.
Oscar Wilde claimed it was his most finished and perfect work.
This poem is about perverse erotic desire and it has a classical feel to it. Wilde had a lifelong passionate affair with the greek language Ancient Greece and Hellenism.
The story goes that a beautiful boy falls in love with the goddess Athena and hides in her temple to make love to her statue. As punishment the goddess makes sure his is drowned. A wood nymph finds the boys pale body on the sand and falls in love with it. Finally the goddess of love venus takes pity on them and revives them in the underworld where 'all his hoarded sweets were hers to kiss / and all her maidenhood was his to slay'
This poem was the direct cause of Wilde being evicted from his home which he shared with Frank Miles whose father 'Cannon Miles' was incensed by it.
Finally , at last I hear some of you who have managed it thus far I have to mention 'Requiescat' which is latin for 'may she rest' and a poem he wrote for his younger sister who died at the age of 10
Tread lightly she is near
under the snow,
Speak gently she can hear
The daisies grow
All her bright golden hair
tarnished with rust
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust
lily-like white as snow
she hardly knew
she was a woman so
sweetly she grew
Coffin board heavy stone
lie on breast
I vex my heart alone
she is at rest
Peace Peace she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet
All my life's burried here
Heap earth upon it.
This is a simple poem and amongst some of the first he had published. I think it shows the emotions he felt on the sad loss of a much loved sister and for that alone I haved picked it as one of my favorites.
Many of the poems in this book are not even 3 star but some of them and 5 star and more.
I hope you get a taste for Wildes poetry from reading this 'review' and it leads you to experiance them for yourselves.
I read The picture of dorian Gray earlier this year and loved the 'poetic' way Oscar Wilde wrote so it was only natural I should go for a book of his poetry as my next foray into his work, I wasn't disappointed.
Oscar Wilde born Dublin Ireland 16/10/1854 was a proponent of the Aesthetic movement - a theory of art and literature that emphasized the pursuit of beauty for its own sake rather than to promote any political or social viewpoint. That being said one of his best known works The Ballad of reading gaol which was his last finished, published piece and written whilst in self imposed exile in France and written also after he spent 2 years doing hard labour in said prison was certainly a thought provoking piece.
The Ballad of Reading gaol is a poem about a condemned prisoner who is set to be hanged and the thoughts and emotions that provokes in the author
I love the poem as a whole but taken from it here are a few verses you may be familiar with and that left a lasting and moving impression on me.
I never saw a man who looked
with such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
which prisoners call the sky.
And at every drifting cloud that went
With sails of silver by,
This verse shows to me how trapped and closed in the prisoners must have felt to view the vast expanse of sky that we as free people can see, as a small tent above their heads.
Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
by each let this be heard,
some do it with a bitter look,
some with a flattering word,
the coward does it with a kiss ,
the brave man with a sword.
This shows to me how fickle and bitter Oscar Wilde found the world. He went from the darling of literature to penniless ex jail bird.
Charmides is another of the longer poems in this volume and it is probably the most notorious.
Oscar Wilde claimed it was his most finished and perfect work.
This poem is about perverse erotic desire and it has a classical feel to it. Wilde had a lifelong passionate affair with the greek language Ancient Greece and Hellenism.
The story goes that a beautiful boy falls in love with the goddess Athena and hides in her temple to make love to her statue. As punishment the goddess makes sure his is drowned. A wood nymph finds the boys pale body on the sand and falls in love with it. Finally the goddess of love venus takes pity on them and revives them in the underworld where 'all his hoarded sweets were hers to kiss / and all her maidenhood was his to slay'
This poem was the direct cause of Wilde being evicted from his home which he shared with Frank Miles whose father 'Cannon Miles' was incensed by it.
Finally , at last I hear some of you who have managed it thus far I have to mention 'Requiescat' which is latin for 'may she rest' and a poem he wrote for his younger sister who died at the age of 10
Tread lightly she is near
under the snow,
Speak gently she can hear
The daisies grow
All her bright golden hair
tarnished with rust
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust
lily-like white as snow
she hardly knew
she was a woman so
sweetly she grew
Coffin board heavy stone
lie on breast
I vex my heart alone
she is at rest
Peace Peace she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet
All my life's burried here
Heap earth upon it.
This is a simple poem and amongst some of the first he had published. I think it shows the emotions he felt on the sad loss of a much loved sister and for that alone I haved picked it as one of my favorites.
Many of the poems in this book are not even 3 star but some of them and 5 star and more.
I hope you get a taste for Wildes poetry from reading this 'review' and it leads you to experiance them for yourselves.
June 29, 2024
my guy loveesss yellow
June 27, 2024
There were a few poetic passages about nature that were truly beautiful ... but for the most part his odes to religious matters got a little old. And, of course, being poetry, you have to dig deep for the meaning and I really wasn't in the mood for that. So it was ok ... after all, he is Irish, and I bought the book in Ireland ... so it gets a place on my shelf even if I never read it again.
Well, I DID read it again, and it didn't get any better. Though I did purchase the book in Ireland, it may be time to send it on to a new home.
Well, I DID read it again, and it didn't get any better. Though I did purchase the book in Ireland, it may be time to send it on to a new home.
Read
May 13, 2023The Ballad of Reading Gaol is a masterpiece
August 8, 2025
''The ballad of reading gaol'' is really good though
April 14, 2021
Wilde’s poetry lacks the biting wit and cleverness you find in some of his other work, but are definitely worth reading if you enjoy poetry. A large portion of his shorter poems are dedicated to expressing the feelings and sensations of his travels through Italy. Another group of his poems might be described as his reflections of the degradation of modern democracies, especially the atrocious state of democratic politics in England without descending too deeply into the particulars. Wilde castigates the common people for not appreciating democracy, allowing themselves to be used and abuse by political demagogues. Nevertheless, these poems also celebrate the fight to achieve freedom and democracy; they are not anti-democratic, but rather speak out against how easily people in a democracy can lose their way.
The first lines of the poem “Sonnet of Liberty” suggest the children of liberty, those everyday people who live in Democracies, are dull, selfish, and dumb. Instead it celebrated the revolutionaries who fight for liberty for it is these people who like “Christ” are willing to “die upon the barricades” for their cause that understand the true worth of liberty. “To Milton” notes the glory of England resides on the surface, but the country and its democracy has fallen from glory since the days of Milton and Oliver Cromwell. While “Quantum Mutata” reiterates that in Cromwell’s and Milton’s day England was the great defender of liberty and democracy, but has since degenerated and replaced commerce and wealth for high ideals. “Theoretikos” claims that the only resistance against all this ignorance and greed taking over the English democracy is to take refuge in the arts and culture.
“The Ballad of Reading Gaol” is one of Wilde’s longer poems and his masterpiece. Although initially focused on a character condemned to hanging for killing his wife, the poem captures the hopelessness of life in prison and the way it kills not only bodies, but the souls of the men inside them. The poem argues that the institution is fundamentally unchristian and that Christ would be ashamed to see men doing such things to other men, noting that it was towards such sinners that his message was directed.
Another interesting poem is “The Sphinx.” Essentially it is an imaginative poem in which the speaker imagines all the ancient pagan deities that must have served as the Sphinx’s past lovers. It is a sensuous poems that luxuriates in its imagery and many references to obscure ancient myths. Indeed, this poem comes the closest to capturing the art-for-art’s sake that Wilde is associated with, but seems lacking in the other poems. The majority of the poem is just a catalogue of the Sphinx’s many ancient lover and lush imagery describing them and their trysts, but the end does present a message of sorts or at least a conflict. The speaker of the poem denounces his fascination with the Sphinx and other ancient pagan figures, feeing guilty for spending his time imagining the Sphinx in all her glory and her past lovers when his entire mind and soul should be focused on Jesus.
This tension between his interest in the Ancient Greek and Roman pagan world and Christianity reappears in a number of Wilde’s other poems. For example, in “Ave María Gratia Plena” the poet considers the annunciation where an angel tells the Virgin Mary that she will give birth to Jesus and finds it less exciting compared to famous scenes from Ancient Greek mythology such as Zeus visiting and impregnating Danae and Semele; yet he also recognizes a profound and unexplainable mystery in the scene that hints that it is just as impressive as the imaginative scenes from ancient mythology, but in a different way.
“Sonnet written in Holy Week at Genoa” also plays on this contrast between the external beauties of nature and the pagan world versus the internal spirit of the Christian world when the poet forgets about Easter and Jesus’s death momentarily while visiting a beautiful Italian retreat, then a feels a sense of guilt that he should have been contemplating God, the cross, and His pain.
One might also read a related theme of the beauties of the external material world versus the internal spiritual world. “Easter Day” contrasts the pomp and circumstance of the Pope and his procession on Easter with the experience of Jesus being abandoned, suffering, friendless, and homeless. While poems such as “Sonnet on Hearing the Dies Irae in the Sistine Chapel” tries to resolve this tension by noting that pondering the beauties of nature has given him a truer sense of religion and God then listening to warning of hell.
The first lines of the poem “Sonnet of Liberty” suggest the children of liberty, those everyday people who live in Democracies, are dull, selfish, and dumb. Instead it celebrated the revolutionaries who fight for liberty for it is these people who like “Christ” are willing to “die upon the barricades” for their cause that understand the true worth of liberty. “To Milton” notes the glory of England resides on the surface, but the country and its democracy has fallen from glory since the days of Milton and Oliver Cromwell. While “Quantum Mutata” reiterates that in Cromwell’s and Milton’s day England was the great defender of liberty and democracy, but has since degenerated and replaced commerce and wealth for high ideals. “Theoretikos” claims that the only resistance against all this ignorance and greed taking over the English democracy is to take refuge in the arts and culture.
“The Ballad of Reading Gaol” is one of Wilde’s longer poems and his masterpiece. Although initially focused on a character condemned to hanging for killing his wife, the poem captures the hopelessness of life in prison and the way it kills not only bodies, but the souls of the men inside them. The poem argues that the institution is fundamentally unchristian and that Christ would be ashamed to see men doing such things to other men, noting that it was towards such sinners that his message was directed.
Another interesting poem is “The Sphinx.” Essentially it is an imaginative poem in which the speaker imagines all the ancient pagan deities that must have served as the Sphinx’s past lovers. It is a sensuous poems that luxuriates in its imagery and many references to obscure ancient myths. Indeed, this poem comes the closest to capturing the art-for-art’s sake that Wilde is associated with, but seems lacking in the other poems. The majority of the poem is just a catalogue of the Sphinx’s many ancient lover and lush imagery describing them and their trysts, but the end does present a message of sorts or at least a conflict. The speaker of the poem denounces his fascination with the Sphinx and other ancient pagan figures, feeing guilty for spending his time imagining the Sphinx in all her glory and her past lovers when his entire mind and soul should be focused on Jesus.
This tension between his interest in the Ancient Greek and Roman pagan world and Christianity reappears in a number of Wilde’s other poems. For example, in “Ave María Gratia Plena” the poet considers the annunciation where an angel tells the Virgin Mary that she will give birth to Jesus and finds it less exciting compared to famous scenes from Ancient Greek mythology such as Zeus visiting and impregnating Danae and Semele; yet he also recognizes a profound and unexplainable mystery in the scene that hints that it is just as impressive as the imaginative scenes from ancient mythology, but in a different way.
“Sonnet written in Holy Week at Genoa” also plays on this contrast between the external beauties of nature and the pagan world versus the internal spirit of the Christian world when the poet forgets about Easter and Jesus’s death momentarily while visiting a beautiful Italian retreat, then a feels a sense of guilt that he should have been contemplating God, the cross, and His pain.
One might also read a related theme of the beauties of the external material world versus the internal spiritual world. “Easter Day” contrasts the pomp and circumstance of the Pope and his procession on Easter with the experience of Jesus being abandoned, suffering, friendless, and homeless. While poems such as “Sonnet on Hearing the Dies Irae in the Sistine Chapel” tries to resolve this tension by noting that pondering the beauties of nature has given him a truer sense of religion and God then listening to warning of hell.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 3, 2024
I know that we as a society (specifically people who write introductions to these kinds of books) like to say things like "While Oscar Wilde is a well-known author he isn't known for his poetry" but maybe there is a reason for that. Something to think about.
2.25
2.25
May 13, 2025
I really enjoyed The Importance of Being Earnest, as well as The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. This book of poetry by Wilde explores sexuality, love, loss, grief, the beauty of Nature, doubt, faith, and redemption. My favorite poem from the book is Magdalen Walks, which is posted below. Reading it brought back very good memories made in Oxford, England.
"The little white clouds are racing over the sky,
And the fields are strewn with the gold of the flower of March,
The daffodil breaks under foot, and the tasselled larch
Sways and swings as the thrush goes hurrying by.
A delicate odour is borne on the wings of the morning breeze,
The odour of leaves, and of grass, and of newly upturned earth,
The birds are singing for joy of the Spring's glad birth,
Hopping from branch to branch on the rocking trees.
And all the woods are alive with the murmur and sound of Spring,
And the rose-bud breaks into pink on the climbing briar,
And the crocus-bed is a quivering moon of fire
Girdled round with the belt of an amethyst ring.
And the plane to the pine-tree is whispering some tale of love
Till it rustles with laughter and tosses its mantle of green,
And the gloom of the wych-elm's hollow is lit with the iris sheen
Of the burnished rainbow throat and the silver breast of a dove.
See! the lark starts up from his bed in the meadow there,
Breaking the gossamer threads and the nets of dew,
And flashing adown the river, a flame of blue!
The kingfisher flies like an arrow, and wounds the air."- Oscar Wilde
"The little white clouds are racing over the sky,
And the fields are strewn with the gold of the flower of March,
The daffodil breaks under foot, and the tasselled larch
Sways and swings as the thrush goes hurrying by.
A delicate odour is borne on the wings of the morning breeze,
The odour of leaves, and of grass, and of newly upturned earth,
The birds are singing for joy of the Spring's glad birth,
Hopping from branch to branch on the rocking trees.
And all the woods are alive with the murmur and sound of Spring,
And the rose-bud breaks into pink on the climbing briar,
And the crocus-bed is a quivering moon of fire
Girdled round with the belt of an amethyst ring.
And the plane to the pine-tree is whispering some tale of love
Till it rustles with laughter and tosses its mantle of green,
And the gloom of the wych-elm's hollow is lit with the iris sheen
Of the burnished rainbow throat and the silver breast of a dove.
See! the lark starts up from his bed in the meadow there,
Breaking the gossamer threads and the nets of dew,
And flashing adown the river, a flame of blue!
The kingfisher flies like an arrow, and wounds the air."- Oscar Wilde
March 12, 2021
4.5 stars
What a delightful yet heart wrenching collection of poems.
I just love the way Oscar Wilde depicts feelings of longing, sadness and desire in this dreamlike way where it left me actually shedding tears by the end.
The way he takes on different narratives while still maintaining a cohesive writing pattern is so mesmerizing, the inclusion of mythology and war, the way his words penetrate through the pages leaves you almost gutted at points, this sense of longing follows you throughout the whole collection, of unmasked desire and love so sweet.
How Wilde describes human emotion, construction, condition and nature will resonate with whomever reads his words, it’s mutually addictive and insightful, and always leaves you thinking of every meaning to every word he uses and why it was used there. Add to that the language he uses to describe nature, the flowers, seasons and atmosphere in general is so peaceful and quaint, that it takes you to it.
I felt the agony, the distress and almost painful portraits he painted with a few verses. I felt despair and sadness ebbing out of me by the end of some of these poems, and that’s why I believe Oscar Wilde not only is he a phenomenal writer and poet, but also a master storyteller who can gauge a readers feelings with only a few words.
What a delightful yet heart wrenching collection of poems.
I just love the way Oscar Wilde depicts feelings of longing, sadness and desire in this dreamlike way where it left me actually shedding tears by the end.
The way he takes on different narratives while still maintaining a cohesive writing pattern is so mesmerizing, the inclusion of mythology and war, the way his words penetrate through the pages leaves you almost gutted at points, this sense of longing follows you throughout the whole collection, of unmasked desire and love so sweet.
How Wilde describes human emotion, construction, condition and nature will resonate with whomever reads his words, it’s mutually addictive and insightful, and always leaves you thinking of every meaning to every word he uses and why it was used there. Add to that the language he uses to describe nature, the flowers, seasons and atmosphere in general is so peaceful and quaint, that it takes you to it.
I felt the agony, the distress and almost painful portraits he painted with a few verses. I felt despair and sadness ebbing out of me by the end of some of these poems, and that’s why I believe Oscar Wilde not only is he a phenomenal writer and poet, but also a master storyteller who can gauge a readers feelings with only a few words.
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