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Oscar Wilde (1854–1900).  

20. Easter Day 




THE silver trumpets rang across the Dome: 
  The people knelt upon the ground with awe: 
  And borne upon the necks of men I saw, 
Like some great God, the Holy Lord of Rome. 
Priest-like, he wore a robe more white than foam,         5
  And, king-like, swathed himself in royal red, 
  Three crowns of gold rose high upon his head: 
In splendour and in light the Pope passed home. 
My heart stole back across wide wastes of years 
  To One who wandered by a lonely sea,  10
  And sought in vain for any place of rest: 
“Foxes have holes, and every bird its nest, 
  I, only I, must wander wearily, 
  And bruise my feet, and drink wine salt with tears.”
Last edited by Vicky2
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Easter Wings

Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store, 
      Though foolishly he lost the same, 
         Decaying more and more, 
         Till he became 
         Most poore: 
         With thee 
         O let me rise 
         As larks, harmoniously, 
      And sing this day thy victories: 
Then shall the fall further the flight in me. 
 
My tender age in sorrow did beginne 
      And still with sicknesses and shame. 
         Thou didst so punish sinne, 
         That I became 
         Most thinne. 
         With thee 
         Let me combine, 
         And feel thy victorie: 
         For, if I imp my wing on thine, 
Affliction shall advance the flight in me. 
Last edited by Sue 1

Easter Wings

Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store, 
      Though foolishly he lost the same, 
         Decaying more and more, 
         Till he became 
         Most poore: 
         With thee 
         O let me rise 
         As larks, harmoniously, 
      And sing this day thy victories: 
Then shall the fall further the flight in me. 
My tender age in sorrow did beginne 
      And still with sicknesses and shame. 
         Thou didst so punish sinne, 
         That I became 
         Most thinne. 
         With thee 
         Let me combine, 
         And feel thy victorie: 
         For, if I imp my wing on thine, 
Affliction shall advance the flight in me. 
Last edited by Inda

The Easter Flower

Far from this foreign Easter damp and chilly
My soul steals to a pear-shaped plot of ground,
Where gleamed the lilac-tinted Easter lily
Soft-scented in the air for yards around;

Alone, without a hint of guardian leaf!
Just like a fragile bell of silver rime,
It burst the tomb for freedom sweet and brief
In the young pregnant year at Eastertime;

And many thought it was a sacred sign,
And some called it the resurrection flower;
And I, a pagan, worshiped at its shrine,
Yielding my heart unto its perfumed power.

Festus Claudius McKay

(1889-1948)

Last edited by Inda

"Meeting The Easter Bunny" by Rowena Bennett

On Easter morn at early dawnbefore the cocks were crowingI met a bob-tail bunnykinand asked where he was going."Tis in the house and out the housea-tispy, tipsy-toeing,Tis round the house and 'bout the housea-lightly I am going.""But what is that of every hueyou carry in your basket?""Tis eggs of gold and eggs of blue;I wonder that you ask it."Tis chocolate eggs and bonbon eggsand eggs of red and gray,For every child in every houseon bonny Easter day."He perked his ears and winked his eyeand twitched his little nose;He shook his tail — what tail he had —and stood up on his toes."I must be gone before the sun;the east is growing gray;Tis almost time for bells to chime." —So he hippety-hopped away.
https://www.bustle.com/article...o-the-holiday-spirit
Last edited by Inda

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