Page:Writings of Oscar Wilde - Volume 01.djvu/104

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THE WRITINGS OF OSCAR WILDE.
Before yon field of trembling gold  Is garnered into dusty sheaves,  Or ere the autumn's scarlet leaves Flutter as birds adown the wold,
I may have run the glorious race,  And caught the torch while yet aflame,  And called upon the holy name Of Him who now doth hide His face.
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