The True Knowledge

Thou knowest all; I seek in vain

What lands to till or sow with seed -

The land is black with briar and weed,

Nor cares for falling tears or rain. 

Thou knowest all; I sit and wait

With blinded eyes and hands that fail,

Till the last lifting of the veil

And the first opening of the gate. 

Thou knowest all; I cannot see.

I trust I shall not live in vain,

I know that we shall meet again

In some divine eternity. 

-Oscar Wilde
		

Symphony in Yellow

An omnibus across the bridge

Crawls like a yellow butterfly,

And, here and therem a passer-by

Shows like a little restless midge.

Big barges full of yellow hay

Are moored against the shadowy wharf,

And, like a yellow silken scarf,

The thick fog hangs along the quay.

The yellow leaves begin to fade

And flutter from the temple elms,

And at my feet the pale green Thames

Lies like a rod of rippled jade.

-Oscar Wilde (1854 - 1900)