Holy Week At Genoa
I wandered through Scoglietto's far retreat, The oranges on each o'erhanging spray Burned as bright lamps of gold to shame the day; Some startled bird with fluttering wings and fleet Made snow of all the blossoms; at my feet Like silver moons the pale narcissi lay: And the curved waves that streaked the great green bay Laughed i' the sun, and life seemed very sweet. Outside the young boy-priest passed singing clear, 'Jesus the son of Mary has been slain, O come and fill His sepulchre with flowers.' Ah, God! Ah, God! those dear Hellenic hours Had drowned all memory of Thy bitter pain, The Cross, the Crown, the Soldiers and the Spear.
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"I wandered through Scoglietto's far retreat,..."
"Holy Week At Genoa" is a quintessential example of Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...