Explore "The Theatre at Argos" by Oscar Wilde on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Nettles and poppy mar each rock-hewn sea / No poet crowned with olive deathlessly / Chants his glad song, nor clamorous Tragedy / Startles the air; green corn is waving sweet / Where once the Chorus danced to measures fleet;
Far to the East a purple sea, / The cliffs of gold that prisoned Danae;
And desecrated Argos at my feet.
No season now to mourn the days of old, / A nation's shipwreck on the rocks of Time, / Or the dread storms of all-devouring Fate.
For now the peoples clamor at our gate, / The world is full of plague and sin and crime, / And God Himself is half-dethroned for Gold!
Argos, 1877