Welcome to Speranza's Poetry Page!

Created on the 14th of April 1998 by Olivia F. Bentley

Hi!

This site is basically for any poem I happen to read and like, hope you like them too!
Anyhow, I will be adding to this in future, I'm just doing this really quick now!
This will be eventually split off into one page per poet, but right now it's just a long list, sorry!

Regards,
"Speranza" (otherwise known as "Lily" and Olivia!)

*NEW*

This is a picture of my namesake, Lady Jane Wilde. Speranza was her nickname.

She lived from 1821 to 1895-6, I'm not quite sure about that, and she was the mother of Oscar Wilde, who's poems can be seen below.

Sulpicia (c. 20 BC)

(Sulpicia is the only known Latin woman poet. Her father was a distinguished lawyer. After her father's death she became the ward of prominanent statesman and patron of arts, Valerius Messalla, around whom a group of poets had gathered, the most notable of these was Tibullus. The poems here are those found at the end of a manuscript of Tibullus.)

Drat my hateful birthday to be spent in the boring old country.


It's going to be a day of mourning, without Cerinthus to hug.
Oh the joys of city life! Is a musty old country house
Any fit place for a girl? And that freezing river at Arezzo!
Please, sweet Messalla, relax, too anxious, as ever, for my comfort!
Banish this grim expedition totally out of your mind.
If I'm to be snatched away I'll leave heart and soul behind here,
Since I'm not to be granted license to run my life.

 

I'm grateful, really grateful, for the favour you've just done me.
You've saved me from being a fool, and rushing into your arms.
Go chasing whores as you will, seducing maids from their sewing,
So much better prospects, I'm sure, than the daughter of Servius Sulpicius!
The main thing prompting the kind friend who told on you
Was the pain of seeing me lose out to love-couch of no standing.

 

Let your longing for me, my love, lose the heat of a few days ago
If I have ever before commited in the whole of my youthful life
As stupid a mistake as this or one I've regretted more.
I left you yesterday, ran off and left you alone -
Honestly, love, it was only that I didn't dare show my passion.

(translated from Latin by John Dillon)

Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)

(Oscar Wilde was born in Dublin. He started off by writing poetry but then moved on to writing plays, the latter was very much more successful.)

Requiescat
Tread lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.

All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.

Lily-like, white as snow,
She hardly knew
She was a woman, so
Sweetly she grew.

Coffin-board, heavy stone,
Lie on her breast,
I vex my heart alone,
She is at rest.

Peace, peace, she cannot here
Lyre or sonnet,
All my life's buried here,
Heap earth upon it.

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,
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,
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."

Impression Du Matin
The Thames nocturne of blue and gold
Changed to a Harmony in grey:
A barge with ocre-coloured hay
Dropt from the wharf: and chill and cold

The yellow fog came creeping down
The bridges, til the houses' walls
Seemed changed to shadows and St. Paul's
Loomed like a bubble o're the town.

Then suddenly arose the clang
Of waking life; the streets were stirred
With country waggons: and a bird
Flew to glistening roofs and sang.

But one pale woman all alone,
The daylight kissing her wan hair,
Loitered beneath the gas lamps' flare,
With lips of flame and heart of stone.

These are all the poems I have right now, I'll add a whole lot more later, I just don't have the time to type out hundreds of lines right now!

I hope very much that you like this, please Email Me with your comments!

***COMING SOON!!!*** Poetry by Rupert Brooke, and more by Oscar Wilde, plus maybe a little by Wilfred Owen!