Explore "Wasted Days" by Oscar Wilde on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
From a Picture Painted by Miss V. T.
A fair slim boy not made for this world's pain, / With hair of gold thick clustering round his ears, / And longing eyes half veiled by foolish tears / Like bluest water seen through mists of rain;
Pale cheeks whereon no kiss hath left its stain, / Red under-lip drawn in for fear of love, / And white throat whiter than the breast of dove --
Alas! Alas! If all should be in vain.
Corn-fields behind, and reapers all a-row / In weariest labour toiling wearily, / To no sweet sound of laughter or of lute.
And careless of the crimson sunset-glow, / The boy still dreams; nor knows that night is night, / And in the night-time no man gathers fruit.