... and when once the storm of youth is past ...
Yet I am not sorry that I loved you ...
ah! what else had I a boy to do? -
For the hungry teeth of time devour,
and the silent-footed years pursue.
Rudderless, we drift athwart a tempest,
and when once the storm of youth is past,
Without lyre, without lute or chorus,
Death the silent pilot comes at last.
Oscar Wilde (1854 – 1900)
71
views
4
faves
9
comments
Uploaded on September 7, 2015
Taken on September 6, 2016
... and when once the storm of youth is past ...
Yet I am not sorry that I loved you ...
ah! what else had I a boy to do? -
For the hungry teeth of time devour,
and the silent-footed years pursue.
Rudderless, we drift athwart a tempest,
and when once the storm of youth is past,
Without lyre, without lute or chorus,
Death the silent pilot comes at last.
Oscar Wilde (1854 – 1900)
71
views
4
faves
9
comments
Uploaded on September 7, 2015
Taken on September 6, 2016