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[Poems by Wilde in] Richard Henry Wilde

His Life and Selected Poems

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ODE TO EASE
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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ODE TO EASE

“Otia, judicio semper amata meo.”
Ovid.

I never bent at Glory's shrine
To Wealth I never bowed the knee
Beauty has heard no vows of mine
I love thee Ease, and only thee.
Beloved of the Gods and men
Sister of Joy and Liberty
When wilt thou visit me agen
In shady wood or silent glen,
By fading stream or rocky den,
Like those where once I found thee when,
I listened to thy Syren voice
And made thee mistress of my choice?
I chose thee Ease and Glory fled
For me no more her laurels spread
Her golden crown shall never shed
Its beams of splendor on my head,
And when within the narrow bed
To fame and memory ever dead
My wretched corpse is thrown:
Nor stately column sculptur'd bust
Nor urn that holds within its trust
The poor remains of mortal dust
Nor monumental stone ...
Nor willow waving in the gale
Nor feeble fence with whitened pale
Nor rustic cross, memorial frail!
Shall mark the grave I own.
But to all future ages lost
Not even a wreck tradition-tost
Of what I was when valued most

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By the few friends whose love I boast
In after years shall float to shore
And serve to tell the name I bore.
I chose thee Ease! and Wealth withdrew
Indignant at the choice I made,
And to her first resentment true,
My scorn with tenfold scorn repaid:
And vowed my folly I should rue
In poverty's benumbing shade.
Now noble palace, lofty dome,
Or cheerful hospitable home,
Are blessings I must never know:
My enemies shall ne'er repine
At pomp or pageantry of mine
Or prove by bowing at my shrine
Their souls are abject base and low;
And worst of all I shall not live
To taste the pleasures wealth can give
When used to soothe another's woe.
The peasants of my native land
Shall never bless my open hand
No wandering bard shall celebrate
His Patron's hospitable gate
No war-warn soldier, shattered tar,
Nor exile driven from afar
Nor hapless friend of former years
Nor widows prayers nor orphan's tears
Nor helpless age relieved from cares
Nor innocence preserved from snares
Nor houseless wanderer clothed and fled,
Nor slave from bitter bondage led,
Nor youth to noble actions bred,
Shall call down blessings on my head.
I chose thee Ease! and yet the while
So sweet was Beautys scornful smile
So fraught with every lovely wile
Yet seemingly, so void of guile,
It did but heighten all her charms:
And Goddess, had I loved thee then,

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But with the common love of men
My fickle heart had changed agen
Even at the very moment when
I wooed thee to my longing arms:
For never may I hope to meet
A smile so sweet, so heavenly sweet!
I chose thee Ease! and now for me
No heart shall ever fondly swell
No voice of rapturous harmony
Awake the music-breathing shell
Nor tongue of witching melody
It's love in faltering accents tell
Nor flushing cheek, nor languid eye
Nor sportive smile nor artless sigh
Confess affection all as well.
No snowy bosom's fall and rise
Shall e'er again enchant my eyes
No dewy lips profuse of bliss
Shall ever greet me with a kiss
Nor sweet low tone pour in mine ear
The trifles Love delights to hear:
But living loveless, hopeless, I,
Unmourned and unloved must die.
I chose thee Ease! and yet to me
Coy and ungrateful thou hast proved,
Though I have sacrificed for thee
Much that was worthy to be loved.
But come again, and I will yet
Thy past ingratitude forget:
O come again! thy witching powers
Shall charm my solitary hours.
With thee to cheer me heavenly queen,
And conscience clear, and health serene,
And friends and books to banish spleen,
My life should be, as it has been,
A sweet variety of joys:
And Glory's crown and Beauty's smile,
And treasured hoards, should seem the while
The idlest of all human toys.