Page:Writings of Oscar Wilde - Volume 01.djvu/92

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THE WRITINGS OF OSCAR WILDE.
Mark how the yellow iris wearily  Leans back its throat, as though it would be kissed By its false chamberer, the dragon-fly,  Who, like a blue vein on a girl's white wrist, Sleeps on that snowy primrose of the night, Which 'gins to flush with crimson shame, and die beneath the light.
Come let us go, against the pallid shield  Of the wan sky the almond blossoms gleam, The corn-crake nested in the unmown field  Answers its mate, across the misty stream On fitful wing the startled curlews fly, And in his sedgy bed the lark, for joy that Day is nigh,
Scatters the pearlèd dew from off the grass,  In tremulous ecstasy to greet the sun, Who soon in gilded panoply will pass  Forth from yon orange-curtained pavilion Hung in the burning east, see, the red rim O'ertops the expectant hills! it is the God! for love of him
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