Poems

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Author: Oscar Wilde

Poem: Le Jardin Des Tuileries

This winter air is keen and cold,
And keen and cold this winter sun,
But round my chair the children run
Like little things of dancing gold.

Sometimes about the painted kiosk
The mimic soldiers strut and stride,
Sometimes the blue-eyed brigands hide
In the bleak tangles of the bosk.

And sometimes, while the old nurse cons
Her book, they steal across the square,
And launch their paper navies where
Huge Triton writhes in greenish bronze.

And now in mimic flight they flee,
And now they rush, a boisterous band -
And, tiny hand on tiny hand,
Climb up the black and leafless tree.

Ah! cruel tree! if I were you,
And children climbed me, for their sake
Though it be winter I would break
Into spring blossoms white and blue!

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Chicago: Oscar Wilde, "Poem: Le Jardin Des Tuileries," Poems, ed. Sutherland, Alexander, 1853-1902 and trans. Seaton, R. C. in Poems (New York: George E. Wood, ""Death-bed"" edition, 1892), Original Sources, accessed September 20, 2018, http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=CNTXR1JHC5N7NFJ.

MLA: Wilde, Oscar. "Poem: Le Jardin Des Tuileries." Poems, edited by Sutherland, Alexander, 1853-1902, and translated by Seaton, R. C., in Poems, New York, George E. Wood, ""Death-bed"" edition, 1892, Original Sources. 20 Sep. 2018. www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=CNTXR1JHC5N7NFJ.

Harvard: Wilde, O, 'Poem: Le Jardin Des Tuileries' in Poems, ed. and trans. . cited in ""Death-bed"" edition, 1892, Poems, George E. Wood, New York. Original Sources, retrieved 20 September 2018, from http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=CNTXR1JHC5N7NFJ.