To Oscar Wilde
Author of ‘Ravenna.’
By Augustus M. Moore.
No Marsyas am I, who singing came
To challenge King Apollo at a Test,
But a love-wearied singer at the best.
The myrtle leaves are all that I can claim,
While on thy brow there burns a crown of flame,
Upon thy shield Italia’s eagle crest;
Content am I with Lesbian leaves to rest,
Guard thou thy laurels and thy mother’s name.
I buried Love within the rose I meant
To deck the fillet of thy Muse’s hair;
I take this wild-flower, grown against her feet,
And kissing its half-open lips I swear,
Frail though it be and widowed of its scent,
I plucked it for your sake and find it sweet.
Moore Hall,
September, 1878.
From The Irish Monthly, Vol. vi, No. 65.