THE Gods are dead: no longer do we bring
To grey-eyed Pallas crowns of olive-leaves!
Demeter's child no more hath tithe of sheaves,
And in the noon the careless shepherds sing,
For Pan is dead, and all the wantoning
By secret glade and devious haunt is o'er:
Young Hylas seeks the water-springs no more;
Great Pan is dead, and Mary's Son is King.
And yet--perchance in this sea-trancèd isle,
Chewing the bitter fruit of memory,
Some God lies hidden in the asphodel.
Ah Love! if such there be then it were well
For us to fly his anger: nay, but see
The leaves are stirring: let us watch a-while.
Oscar Wilde's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Santa Decca by Oscar Wilde )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
Did you read them?
- Amen (ए'मेन), Ronjoy Brahma
- बबि अनजालि, Bahadur Basumatary
- Witchy lady, Clara Keiper
- Birds, Tony Adah
- come, come to the light, let us all bathe., RIC S. BASTASA
- dignity finally comes in the form of a r.., RIC S. BASTASA
- to live in the kingdom of the clouds, RIC S. BASTASA
- but always remember no one owns it, RIC S. BASTASA
- Diaris Godoooo!, Rex mayor Ubini
- THE OLD MAN HAS FOUND TRUE LOVE AGAIN, RIC S. BASTASA