One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words.
JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE (1749-1832)
To read an article about Goethe, click here.
Whatever your occupation may be and however crowded your hours with affairs, do not fail to secure at least a few minutes every day for refreshment of your inner life with a bit of poetry.
CHARLES ELIOT NORTON (1827-1908)
To read an article about Norton, click here.
Though it would be dangerous to make calendars the basis of Culture, we should all be much improved if we began each day with a fine passage of English poetry.
OSCAR WILDE (1856-1900)
To read an article about Wilde, click here.
Life in Bits of Poetry and in Other Things | "One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words." So wrote Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832). This blog is primarily for adults.
Showing posts with label Oscar Wilde. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Oscar Wilde. Show all posts
Saturday, August 24, 2019
Saturday, March 25, 2017
"Magdalen Walks" by Oscar Wilde : Poets.org
Read the poem "Magdalen Walks" by Irish writer Oscar Wilde (1854-1900). It is a joyous exaltation of springtime and rebirth.
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
"On the Sale by Auction of Keats' Love Letters" by Oscar Wilde
ON THE SALE BY AUCTION OF KEATS' LOVE LETTERS
A sonnet by Oscar Wilde
These are the letters which Endymion wrote
To one he loved in secret, and apart.
And now the brawlers of the auction mart
Bargain and bid for each poor blotted note,
Ay! for each separate pulse of passion quote
The merchant's price. I think they love not art
Who break the crystal of a poet's heart
That small and sickly eyes may glare and gloat.
Is it not said that many years ago,
In a far Eastern town, some soldiers ran
With torches through the midnight, and began
To wrangle for mean raiment, and to throw
Dice for the garments of a wretched man,
Not knowing the God's wonder, or His woe?
Listen to a recitation of the sonnet above in a video and read about that sonnet on YouTube: https://youtu.be/2tavj1Mhyvw
A sonnet by Oscar Wilde
These are the letters which Endymion wrote
To one he loved in secret, and apart.
And now the brawlers of the auction mart
Bargain and bid for each poor blotted note,
Ay! for each separate pulse of passion quote
The merchant's price. I think they love not art
Who break the crystal of a poet's heart
That small and sickly eyes may glare and gloat.
Is it not said that many years ago,
In a far Eastern town, some soldiers ran
With torches through the midnight, and began
To wrangle for mean raiment, and to throw
Dice for the garments of a wretched man,
Not knowing the God's wonder, or His woe?
Listen to a recitation of the sonnet above in a video and read about that sonnet on YouTube: https://youtu.be/2tavj1Mhyvw
Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)
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