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A poem by Oscar Wilde : La Fuite De La Lune

Oscar Wilde portrait

La Fuite De La Lune

To outer senses there is peace,
A dreamy peace on either hand
Deep silence in the shadowy land,
Deep silence where the shadows cease.

Save for a cry that echoes shrill
From some lone bird disconsolate;
A corncrake calling to its mate;
The answer from the misty hill.

And suddenly the moon withdraws
Her sickle from the lightening skies,
And to her sombre cavern flies,
Wrapped in a veil of yellow gauze.

 

Oscar Wilde

Tomb_of_Oscar_Wilde,_Père_Lachaise_cemetery,_Paris,_France

About Mohammad Daeizadeh

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