Oscar Wilde


THE western wind is blowing fair	 
  Across the dark Ægean sea,	 
And at the secret marble stair	 
  My Tyrian galley waits for thee.	 
Come down! the purple sail is spread,	         
  The watchman sleeps within the town,	 
O leave thy lily-flowered bed,	 
  O Lady mine come down, come down!	 
She will not come, I know her well,	 
  Of loverís vows she hath no care,	  
And little good a man can tell	 
  Of one so cruel and so fair.	 
True love is but a womanís toy,	 
  They never know the loverís pain,	 
And I who loved as loves a boy	  15
  Must love in vain, must love in vain.	 
O noble pilot tell me true	 
  Is that the sheen of golden hair?	 
Or is it but the tangled dew	 
  That binds the passion-flowers there?	  
Good sailor come and tell me now	 
  Is that my Ladyís lily hand?	 
Or is it but the gleaming prow,	 
  Or is it but the silver sand?	 
No! no! ítis not the tangled dew,	  
  íTis not the silver-fretted sand,	 
It is my own dear Lady true	 
  With golden hair and lily hand!	 
O noble pilot steer for Troy,	 
  Good sailor ply the labouring oar,	  
This is the Queen of life and joy	 
  Whom we must bear from Grecian shore!	 
The waning sky grows faint and blue,	 
  It wants an hour still of day,	 
Aboard! aboard! my gallant crew,	  
  O Lady mine away! away!	 
O noble pilot steer for Troy,	 
  Good sailor ply the labouring oar,	 
O loved as only loves a boy!	 
  O loved for ever evermore!

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