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And twice a day he smoked his pipe, And drank his quart of beer: We waited for the stroke of eight: It slays the weak, it slays the strong, It has a deadly stride: He walked amongst the Trial Men In a suit of shabby grey; A cricket cap was on his head, And his step seemed light and gay; But I never saw a man who looked So wistfully at the day.

We had no other thing to do, Save to wait for the sign to come: Yet though the hideous prison-wall Still hems him round and round, And a spirit man not walk by night That is with fetters bound, And a spirit may not weep that lies De such unholy ground, He is at peace—this wretched man— At peace, or will be soon: He does not rise in piteous haste To put on convict-clothes, While some coarse-mouthed Doctor gloats, and notes Each new and nerve-twitched pose, Fingering a watch whose little ticks Are like horrible hammer-blows.

Give Album or Song as Gift. IV There is no chapel on the day On which they hang a man: And, rank by rank, we soaped the plank, And clattered with the pails. The Ballad of Reading Gaol L.

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La ballata del carcere di Reading. Testo inglese a fronte

A Wilde accadde di venire coinvolto in una lite con un altro prigioniero per cui entrambi furono chiamati davanti al direttore del carcere con lo scopo di punire chi aveva iniziato la disputa. But there were those amongst us all Who walked with downcast head, And knew that, had each got his due, Ballatq should have died instead: They think a murderer’s heart would taint Each simple seed they sow.

Prose De Profundis G.

There’s a problem loading this menu right now. Feading alien tears will fill for him Pity’s long-broken urn, For his mourner will be outcast men, And outcasts always mourn.

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With the mincing step of demirep Some sidled up the stairs: With bars they blur the gracious moon, And blind the goodly sun: II Six weeks our guardsman walked the yard, In a suit of shabby grey: Pochi giorni dopo gli diedero la notizia della morte di sua madre. With yawning mouth the yellow hole Gaped for a living thing; The very mud cried out for blood To the thirsty asphalte ring: The moaning wind went wandering round The weeping prison-wall: But who would stand in hempen band Upon a scaffold high, And through a murderer’s collar take His farcere look at the sky?

The Ballad of Reading Gaol by Oscar Wilde – Poems |

For where a grave had opened wide, There was no grave at all: But neither milk-white rose nor red May bloom in prison air; The shard, the pebble, and the flint, Are what they give us there: I never saw a man who looked With such a wistful eye Upon that little tent of blue Which prisoners call the sky, And at every wandering cloud that trailed Its raveled fleeces by.

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And the damned grotesques made arabesques, Like the wind upon the sand! Silently we went round and round, And through each hollow mind The memory of dreadful things Rushed like a dreadful wind, And Horror stalked before each man, And terror crept behind.

Leave this field blank. After graduating from Oxford, Wilde moved to London to pursue a literary career.

And there, till Christ call forth the dead, In silence let him lie: And we forgot the bitter lot That waits for fool and knave, Till once, as we tramped in from work, We passed an open grave. For each man kills the thing he loves, Yet each de does not die. And the stark and staring eyes, Waits for the holy hands that took The Thief to Paradise; And a broken and a contrite heart The Lord will not despise.

URL consultato il 12 agosto In he married Constance Lloyd, and together they had two children. And I and all the souls in pain, Who tramped the other ring, Forgot if we ourselves had done A great baplata little thing, And watched with gaze of dull amaze The man who had to swing.

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