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Poem by Oscar Wilde


Portia


I MARVEL not Bassanio was so bold
To peril all he had upon the lead,
Or that proud Aragon bent low his head,
Or that Morocco's fiery heart grew cold:
For in that gorgeous dress of beaten gold
Which is more golden than the golden sun,
No woman Veronesé looked upon
Was half so fair as thou whom I behold.
Yet fairer when with wisdom as your shield
The sober-suited lawyer's gown you donned
And would not let the laws of Venice yield
Antonio's heart to that accursèd Jew--
O Portia! take my heart: it is thy due:
I think I will not quarrel with the Bond. 



Oscar Wilde


Oscar Wilde's other poems:
  1. Les Ballons
  2. On the Massacre of the Christians in Bulgaria
  3. Fabien Dei Franchi
  4. Chanson
  5. Tristitiae


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