1881
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS
by Oscar Wilde
THE TRUE KNOWLEDGE
Thou knowest all- I seek in vain
What lands to till or sow with seed-
The land is black with briar and weed,
Nor cares for falling tears or rain.
Thou knowest all- I sit and wait
With blinded eyes and hands that fail,
Till the last lifting of the veil,
And the first opening of the gate.
Thou knowest all- I cannot see.
I trust I shall not live in vain,
I know that we shall meet again,
In some divine eternity.
A LAMENT
O well for him who lives at ease
With garnered gold in wide domain,
Nor heeds the splashing of the rain,
The crashing down of forest trees.
O well for him who ne'er hath known
The travail of the hungry years,
A father grey with grief and tears,
A mother weeping all alone.
But well for him whose feet hath trod
The weary road of toil and strife,
Yet from the sorrows of his life
Builds ladders to be nearer God.
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