Queen Henrietta Maria

Oscar Wilde

 Next Poem          

. IN the lone tent, waiting for victory,
She stands with eyes marred by the mists of pain,
Like some wan lily overdrenched with rain:
The clamorous clang of arms, the ensanguined sky,
War's ruin, and the wreck of chivalry,
To her proud soul no common fear can bring:
Bravely she tarrieth for her Lord the King,
Her soul a-flame with passionate ecstasy.
O Hair of Gold! O Crimson Lips! O Face
Made for the luring and the love of man!


With thee I do forget the toil and stress,
The loveless road that knows no resting place,
Time's straitened pulse, the soul's dread weariness,
My freedom and my life republican!

Next Poem 

 Back to Oscar Wilde
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors


To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.

Comments1
  • katy

    hmm interesting piece. I liked the emotion and imagary but found it bit dramatic for my taste.