Poem – Santa Decca

THE Gods are dead: no longer do we bring
To grey-eyed Pallas crowns of olive-leaves!
Demeter’s child no more hath tithe of sheaves,
And in the noon the careless shepherds sing,
For Pan is dead, and all the wantoning
By secret glade and devious haunt is o’er:
Young Hylas seeks the water-springs no more;
Great Pan is dead, and Mary’s Son is King.

And yet–perchance in this sea-trancèd isle,
Chewing the bitter fruit of memory,
Some God lies hidden in the asphodel.
Ah Love! if such there be then it were well
For us to fly his anger: nay, but see
The leaves are stirring: let us watch a-while.

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About भण्डारी2013

Has a reflective and idealistic types of personality. Loves to participate in Social activities. Extremely loyal by nature. Laid back unless a strongly held value is threatened and a talented writer too.
This entry was posted in Oscar Wilde (1854-1900 / Dublin / Ireland) and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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