The Writings of Oscar Wilde/Volume 1/Easter Day

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For works with similar titles, see Easter Day.
For other versions of this work, see Easter Day (Wilde).
Easter Day
by Oscar Wilde
42875Easter DayOscar Wilde

The silver trumpets rang across the Dome:
The people knelt upon the ground with awe:
And borne upon the necks of men I saw,
Like some great God, the Holy Lord of Rome.
Priest-like, he wore a robe more white than foam,
And, king-like, swathed himself in royal red,
Three crowns of gold rose high upon his head:
In splendour and in light the Pope passed home.


My heart stole back across wide wastes of years
To One who wandered by a lonely sea,
And sought in vain for any place of rest:
Foxes have holes, and every bird its nest,
I, only I, must wander wearily,
And bruise my feet, and drink wine salt with tears.