Page:Writings of Oscar Wilde - Volume 01.djvu/87

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THE GARDEN OF EROS.
73
We know them all, Gudrun the strong man's bride,  Aslaug and Olafson we know them all, How giant Grettir fought and Sigurd died,  And what enchantment held the king in thrall When lonely Brynhild wrestled with the powers That war against all passion, ah! how oft through summer hours,
Long listless summer hours when the noon  Being enamored of a damask rose Forgets to journey westward, till the moon  The pale usurper of its tribute grows From a thin sickle to a silver shield And chides its loitering car—how oft, in some cool grassy field
Far from the cricket-ground and noisy eight  At Bagley, where the rustling bluebells come Almost before the blackbird finds a mate  And overstay the swallow, and the hum Of many murmuring bees flits through the leaves, Have I lain poring on the dreamy tales his fancy weaves,
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