Page:Writings of Oscar Wilde - Volume 01.djvu/80

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THE WRITINGS OF OSCAR WILDE.
Their painted wings beside it,—bid it pine In pale virginity; the winter snow Will suit it better than those lips of thine  Whose fires would but scorch it, rather go And pluck that amorous flower which blooms alone, Fed by the pander wind with dust of kisses not its own.
The trumpet-mouths of red convolvulus  So dear to maidens, creamy meadow-sweetWhiter than Juno's throat and odorous  As all Arabia, hyacinths the feet Of Huntress Dian would be loath to mar For any dappled fawn,—pluck these, and those fond flowers which are
Fairer than what Queen Venus trod upon  Beneath the pines of Ida, eucharis,That morning star which does not dread the sun,  And budding marjoram which but to kiss Would sweeten Cytheræa's lips and make Adonis jealous,—these for thy head,—and for thy girdle take
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