Theoretikos

[Ed. Note: The title means "the contemplative." --Nelson]

THIS mighty empire hath but feet of clay

  Of all its ancient chivalry and might

  Our little island is forsaken quite:

Some enemy hath stolen its crown of bay,

And from its hills that voice hath passed away

  Which spake of Freedom: O come out of it,

  Come out of it, my Soul, thou art not fit

  For this vile traffic-house, where day by day

  Wisdom and reverence are sold at mart,

 &bnsp;And the rude people rage with ignorant cries

Against an heritage of centuries.

  It mars my calm: wherefore in dreams of Art

  And loftiest culture I would stand apart,

Neither for God, nor for his enemies.

Oscar Wilde

Index to poems in the collection by Oscar Wilde