by Oscar Wilde (1854 - 1900)
The New Remorse
Language: English
The sin was mine; I did not understand. So now is music prisoned in her cave, Save where some ebbing desultory wave Frets with its restless whirls this meagre strand. And in the withered hollow of this land Hath Summer dug herself so deep a grave, That hardly can the leaden willow crave One silver blossom from keen Winter’s hand. But who is this who cometh by the shore? (Nay, love, look up and wonder!) Who is this Who cometh in dyed garments from the South? It is thy new-found Lord, and he shall kiss The yet unravished roses of thy mouth, And I shall weep and worship, as before.
Authorship:
- by Oscar Wilde (1854 - 1900), "The New Remorse" [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Miranda Al-Raad (b. 1988), "The New Remorse", 2010 [ voice and guitar ] [sung text not yet checked]
- by John Biggs (b. 1932), "The New Remorse", op. 45 (1972) [ mixed chorus ], from Two Chorales on Poems of Oscar Wilde [sung text not yet checked]
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2023-06-19
Line count: 14
Word count: 110