The Garden of Eros

Poetry | Oscar Wilde
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The Garden of Eros Oscar Wilde (1854 –1900) It is full summer now, the heart of June; Not yet the sunburnt reapers are astir Upon the upland meadow where too soon Rich autumn time, the season's usurer, Will lend his hoarded gold to all the trees, And see his treasure scattered by the wild and spendthrift breeze. Too soon indeed! yet here the daffodil, That love-child of the Spring, has lingered on...
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