Page:Writings of Oscar Wilde - Volume 01.djvu/104

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THE WRITINGS OF OSCAR WILDE.
Before yon field of trembling gold
 Is garnered into dusty sheaves,
 Or ere the autumn's scarlet leaves
Flutter as birds adown the wold,

I may have run the glorious race,
 And caught the torch while yet aflame,
 And called upon the holy name
Of Him who now doth hide His face.

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