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[Poems by Wilde in] Richard Henry Wilde

His Life and Selected Poems
Wilde, Richard Henry (1789-1847)

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FRAGMENT I
 
FRAGMENT II
 
FRAGMENT III
 
FRAGMENT IV
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Poems: Fugitive and Occasional
 
TO IOLE
 
SOLOMON AND THE GENIE
 
[Farewell fair Florence! not I hope forever]
 
FRAGMENT
 
TO ---
 
FORGET ME NOT
 
THE SIGNS OF LOVE
 
[The dream of life is over]
 
LINES IN AN ALBUM
 
TO ---
 
[Light be the turf on thy tomb]
 
SONNET
 
TO ---
 
LINES FOR MUSIC
 
THE GUINEA FOWL
 
LINES ON THE FIRST LEAF OF AN ALBUM
 
[I knew that this must end—at first]
 
[The future bard of Paradise in youth]
 
SONNET TO LORD BYRON
 
[There is a narrow cheerless cell]
 
[The full levee, the crowded hall]
 
REPLY TO SOME MELANCHOLY VERSES BEGINNING “WHY DO WE LIVE?”
 
[In youth's first flush when hearts are light]
 
THE POET TO HIS LYRE
 
AT NIGHT
 
WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM
 
SONNET
 
WRITTEN ON THE LEAF OF AN ALBUM UNDER TWO DOVES BILLING
 
SONNET FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF CAMOENS
 
EPIGRAM ON A DULL PREACHER FROM THE ITALIAN OF RONCALLI
 
SONNET FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF CAMOENS
 
EPITAPH ON A POET FROM THE ITALIAN OF RONCALLI
 
SONNET FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF CAMOENS
 
[Cast up a wreck by Fortune's tide]
 
TO ---
 
LINES WRITTEN IN MARY[']S ‘RELIQUIARIUM’
 
[Mary farewell! Like the ill-omened toll]
 
LOVE AND REASON ON THE DEVICE OF A SEAL REASON GIVING WINGS TO LOVE WITH THE LEGEND “SE VEDE, VOLA”
 
[Bright as the diamond of the mine]
 
[At home, with other friends, in after years]
 
FEMALE INFLUENCE
 
SONNET
 
ON BREAKING THE CHAIN OF A LOCKET
 
[What Alchemy's empiric art]
 
[It was as if he had been cast]
 
ON A SUN-DIAL NEAR VENICE
 
ODE TO EASE
 
BELPHEGOR
 
DIALOGUE
 
SONNET FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF CAMOENS
 
EPIGRAM FROM THE ITALIAN OF DE ROSSI
 
[No wonder if thy pulses thrill]
 
[It was a just reproof! ... and yet I thought]
 
LINES WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM
 
[Happy is he who sees thee smile]
 
[Choose as thou wilt! the land—the main]
 
[I have deceived myself! ... the dream was sweet]
 
[My hair is gray—the flower of life is past]
 
[My Sister! through how many trying scenes]
 
RUTH
 
[If it be love, in every pulse's tide]
 
[This life is but a horrid dream]
 
THE HERON
 
NAPOLEON'S GRAVE
 
[Go! go, thou art false!—thy tears thy smiles]
 
[Why is it then, the Earth and Sky]
 
[A sister's kiss—an infant's prayer—]
 
TO [---]
 
[A Rose between two Hearts—by moonlight given]
 
['Tis the hour when Twilight stealing]
 
BARCAROLA
 
[Zoe farewell!—How much is in that word]
 
TO A LOVELY BRUNETTE WHOM THE AUTHOR SAW AT HER LATTICE
 
[Why should her misery o'er my own prevail]
 
[You call me sad!—you err—I'm gay]
 
TO ---
 
[Yes! let us part, while yet we may]
 
[Oh! dearer by far than the land of our birth]
 
[Forget me not! or grave or gay]
 
NIGHT REVERIES
 
[In utter loneliness of heart]
 
[Good-Night! good night!—those few kind words are all]
 
ON POWER'S IDEAL HEAD OF ROGERS' GENEVRA
 
[In this dull world of books and men]
 
[Farewell! my more than father land]
 
[Lady farewell! ... bear with thee o'er the wave]
 
[In sad constrained and tedious hours]
 
LINES WRITTEN IN LADY ---'S ALBUM
 
[They say no Love's so deep—so pure]
 
[Cease, cease thy song! it tells me much]
 
[Come! come to us hither! the goblet is flowing]
 
[Here all is heartless, hollow, loud]
 
TO ---
 
TO JULIA
 
WHO KNOWS?
 
FORCED CONTRIBUTION
 
TO ---
 
GEMMA DONATI
 
STAR OF MY LOVE! I
 
STAR OF MY LOVE II
 
STAR OF MY LOVE III
 
STAR OF MY LOVE IV
 
STAR OF MY LOVE V
 
TO MISS ---
 
[Why is that gaze? Canst thou not tell]
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Other Poems
 
ON MY BIRTHDAY
 
SONNET SENT TO CARLO BOTTA ON READING HIS HISTORY OF ITALY
 
[Daughter of Grecian Genius! from whose soul]
 
Anonymous (Italian)
 
Juan Meléndez Valdés ANACREONTIC
 
LINES WRITTEN BY THOMAS CHATTERTON WHILE MEDITATING SUICIDE IN THE AUTUMN OF 1770
 
LINES FOR THE MUSIC OF WEBER'S LAST WALTZ
 
ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY
 
ON GREENOUGH'S WASHINGTON
 
Guido Guinicelli (Italian)
 
[Whilst busy Memory fondly strays]

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Then tell me!—since I've found on earth
Not one pure stream to slake this thirst
Which still torments us from our birth
And in our heart and soul is nurst
This hopeless wish wherewith we're curst,
Whence came it, and why was it given?
Thou speak'st not!—Let me know the worst
Thou pointest!—and it is to Heaven!
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