To drift with every passion till my soul Is a stringed lute on which all winds can play; Is it for this that I have given away Mine ancient Wisdom, and austere control? Methinks my life is a twice written scroll Scrawled over on some boyish holiday With idle songs for pipe or Virelay Which do but mar the secret of the whole. Surely there was a time I might have trod The sunlit heights, and from life's dissonance Struck one clear chord to reach the ears of God: Is that time dead? Lo with a little rod I did but touch the honey of romance And must I lose a soul's inheritance?
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This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.
Author(s) - Oscar Wilde
Published Date - August 22 2019
ISBN - 9781528276085
Dimesions - 22.9 x 15.2 x 1 cm
Page Count - 135
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