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Show EASTER DAY By Oscar Wilde. Tho silver trumpets rang apross tho 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, And, king-like, swathed himself in royal red, Three crowns of gold rose high upon his head; In splendor and in light the Pope passed home. My heart stole back across wide wastes of years To One who wandered by a lonely sea, 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." |