Home ⇒ 📌Oscar Wilde ⇒ Portia
Portia
(To Ellen Terry)
I marvel not Bassanio was so bold
To peril all he had upon the lead,
Or that proud Aragon bent low his head
Or that Morocco’s fiery heart grew cold:
For in that gorgeous dress of beaten gold
Which is more golden than the golden sun
No woman Veronese looked upon
Was half so fair as thou whom I behold.
Yet fairer when with wisdom as your shield
The sober-suited lawyer’s gown you donned,
And would not let the laws of Venice yield
Antonio’s heart to that accursed Jew –
O Portia! take my heart: it is thy due:
I think I will not quarrel with the Bond.
(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
Related poetry:
- I looked here I looked here; I looked there; Nowhere could I see my love. And this time She was in my heart. Truly, then, I have no complaint, For though she be fair and fairer, She is none so fair as she In my heart....
- Fair And Unfair The beautiful is fair. The just is fair. Yet one is commonplace and one is rare, One everywhere, one scarcely anywhere. So fair unfair a world. Had we the wit To use the surplus for the deficit, We’d make a fairer fairer world of it....
- Audley Court ‘The Bull, the Fleece are cramm’d, and not a room For love or money. Let us picnic there At Audley Court.’ I spoke, while Audley feast Humm’d like a hive all round the narrow quay, To Francis, with a basket on his arm, To Francis just alighted from the boat, And breathing of the sea. […]...
- A Woman's Voice HIS head within my bosom lay, But yet his spirit slipped not through: I only felt the burning clay That withered for the cooling dew. It was but pity when I spoke And called him to my heart for rest, And half a mother’s love that woke Feeling his head upon my breast: And half […]...
- Mary Ellen It’s mighty quiet in the house Since Mary Ellen quit me cold; I’ve swept the hearth and fed the mouse That’s getting fat and overbold. I’ve bought a pig’s foot for the pot And soon I’ll set the fire alight; Then I may eat or I may not, Depends upon my appetite. Since Mary Ellen […]...
- JUNE SHE behind yon mountain lives, Who my love’s sweet guerdon gives. Tell me, mount, how this can be! Very glass thou seem’st to me, And I seem to be close by, For I see her drawing nigh; Now, because I’m absent, sad, Now, because she sees me, glad! Soon between us rise to sight Valleys […]...
- The Lawyers Know Too Much THE LAWYERS, Bob, know too much. They are chums of the books of old John Marshall. They know it all, what a dead hand wrote, A stiff dead hand and its knuckles crumbling, The bones of the fingers a thin white ash. The lawyers know a dead man’s thoughts too well. In the heels of […]...
- Forget-Me-Not A gallant knight and his betroth’d bride, Were walking one day by a river side, They talk’d of love, and they talk’d of war, And how very foolish lovers are. At length the bride to the knight did say, ‘There have been many young ladies led astray By believing in all their lovers said, And […]...
- Sonnet XIII: Phoebus Was Judge Phoebus was judge between Jove, Mars, and Love, Of those three gods, whose arms the fairest were: Jove’s golden shield did eagle sables bear, Whose talons held young Ganymede above: But in vert field Mars bare a golden spear, Which through a bleeding heart his point did shove: Each had his crest; Mars carried Venus’ […]...
- The House of Fortune III My wearied heart bade me farewell and left for the House of Fortune. As he reached that holy city which the soul had blessed and worshipped, he commenced wondering, for he could not find what he had always imagined would be there. The city was empty of power, money, and authority. And my heart spoke […]...
- Cuckoo Song (Spring begins in southern England on the 14th April, on which date the Old Woman lets the Cuckoo out of her basket at Heathfield Fair locally known as Heffle Cuckoo Fair.) Tell it to the locked-up trees, Cuckoo, bring your song here! Warrant, Act and Summons, please, For Spring to pass along here! Tell old […]...
- The Voice Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me, Saying that now you are not as you were When you had changed from the one who was all to me, But as at first, when our day was fair. Can it be you that I hear? Let me view you, then, Standing as […]...
- 363. Song-My Native Land sae far awa O SAD and heavy, should I part, But for her sake, sae far awa; Unknowing what my way may thwart, My native land sae far awa. Thou that of a’ things Maker art, That formed this Fair sae far awa, Gie body strength, then I’ll ne’er start At this my way sae far awa. How […]...
- The Gardener LIX: O Woman O woman, you are not merely the Handiwork of God, but also of men; These are ever endowing you with Beauty from their hearts. Poets are weaving for you a web With threads of golden imagery; Painters are giving your form ever New immortality. The sea gives its pearls, the mines Their gold, the summer […]...
- To What Shall I Compare Her? TO what shall I compare her, That is as fair as she? For she is fairer – fairer Than the sea. What shall be likened to her, The sainted of my youth? For she is truer – truer Than the truth. As the stars are from the sleeper, Her heart is hid from me; For […]...
- The Primrose Upon this Primrose hill, Where, if Heav’n would distil A shower of rain, each several drop might go To his own primrose, and grow manna so; And where their form and their infinity Make a terrestrial Galaxy, As the small stars do in the sky: I walk to find a true Love; and I see […]...
- Maud Muller Maud Muller on a summer’s day Raked the meadow sweet with hay. Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Of simple beauty and rustic health. Singing, she wrought, and her merry gleee The mock-bird echoed from his tree. But when she glanced to the far-off town White from its hill-slope looking down, The sweet song […]...
- 250. Song-She's Fair and Fause SHE’S fair and fause that causes my smart, I lo’ed her meikle and lang; She’s broken her vow, she’s broken my heart, And I may e’en gae hang. A coof cam in wi’ routh o’ gear, And I hae tint my dearest dear; But Woman is but warld’s gear, Sae let the bonie lass gang. […]...
- Sonnet 137: Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes That they behold and see not what they see? They know what beauty is, see where it lies, Yet what the best is, take the worst to be. If eyes corrupt by overpartial looks, Be anchored in the bay where all men ride, Why of […]...
- Sonnet CXXXVII Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes, That they behold, and see not what they see? They know what beauty is, see where it lies, Yet what the best is take the worst to be. If eyes corrupt by over-partial looks Be anchor’d in the bay where all men ride, Why of […]...
- To Jessica, Gone Back To The City Sence fair Jessica hez left us Seems ez ef she hed bereft us, When she went, o’ half o’ livin’; Fer we never knowed she’d driven Into us so much content, Till fair Jessica hed went. (Knowed a feller once thet cried When his yaller dog hed died.) We hain’t near ez bright an’ chirky, […]...
- Mater Dei She looked to east, she looked to west, Her eyes, unfathomable, mild, That saw both worlds, came home to rest, Home to her own sweet child. God’s golden head was at her breast. What need to look o’er land and sea? What could the winged ships bring to her? What gold or gems of price […]...
- Hymn 73 The church’s beauty in the eyes of Christ. SS 4:1-11. Kind is the speech of Christ our Lord, Affection sounds in every word: Lo! thou art fair, my love,” he cries, “Not the young doves have sweeter eyes.” [“Sweet are thy lips, thy pleasing voice Salutes mine ear with secret joys; No spice so much […]...
- Psalm XIX: The Heavens Declare Thy Glory, Lord The heavens declare thy glory, Lord, In every star thy wisdom shines; But when our eyes behold thy word, We read thy name in fairer lines. The rolling sun, the changing light, And night and day, thy power confess; But the blest volume thou hast writ Reveals thy justice and thy grace. Sun, moon, and […]...
- The Rose A ROSE, as fair as ever saw the North, Grew in a little garden all alone; A sweeter flower did Nature ne’er put forth, Nor fairer garden yet was never known: The maidens danced about it morn and noon, And learned bards of it their ditties made; The nimble fairies by the pale-faced moon Water’d […]...
- Simples O bella bionda, Sei come l’onda! Of cool sweet dew and radiance mild The moon a web of silence weaves In the still garden where a child Gathers the simple salad leaves. A moondew stars her hanging hair And moonlight kisses her young brow And, gathering, she sings an air: Fair as the wave is, […]...
- Oh fair enough are sky and plain Oh fair enough are sky and plain, But I know fairer far: Those are as beautiful again That in the water are; The pools and rivers wash so clean The trees and clouds and air, The like on earth was never seen, And oh that I were there. These are the thoughts I often think […]...
- The Ragged Wood O hurry where by water among the trees The delicate-stepping stag and his lady sigh, When they have but looked upon their images – Would none had ever loved but you and I! Or have you heard that sliding silver-shoed Pale silver-proud queen-woman of the sky, When the sun looked out of his golden hood? […]...
- Roundel She’s passing fair; but so demure is she, So quiet is her gown, so smooth her hair, That few there are who note her and agree She’s passing fair. Yet when was ever beauty held more rare Than simple heart and maiden modesty? What fostered charms with virtue could compare? Alas, no lover ever stops […]...
- The Sower Sure of the spring that warms them into birth, The golden seeds thou trustest to the earth; And dost thou doubt the eternal spring sublime, For deeds the seeds which wisdom sows in time....
- The Proud Lady When Stiivoren town was in its prime And queened the Zuyder Zee, Its ships went out to every clime With costly merchantry. A lady dwelt in that rich town, The fairest in all the land; She walked abroad in a velvet gown, With many rings on her hand. Her hair was bright as the beaten […]...
- Sleep Come Sleep; O Sleep! the certain knot of peace, The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe, The poor man’s wealth, the prisoner’s release, Th’ indifferent judge between the high and low; With shield of proof shield me from out the prease Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw: O make in me […]...
- Sonnet XXXIX: Come, Sleep! Come Sleep! O Sleep, the certain knot of peace, The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe, The poor man’s wealth, the prisoner’s release, Th’ indifferent judge between the high and low. With shield of proof shield me from out the prease Of those fierce darts despair at me doth throw: O make in me […]...
- Come Sleep, O Sleep! The Certain Knot Of Peace Come, Sleep! O Sleep, the certain knot of peace, The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe, The poor man’s wealth, the prisoner’s release, Th’ indifferent judge between the high and low; With shield of proof shield me from out the press Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw! O make in me […]...
- Sonnet 05 – I lift my heavy heart up solemnly I lift my heavy heart up solemnly, As once Electra her sepulchral urn, And, looking in thine eyes, I overturn The ashes at thy feet. Behold and see What a great heap of grief lay hid in me, And how the red wild sparkles dimly burn Through the ashen grayness. If thy foot in scorn […]...
- You Ask Me, Why, Tho' Ill at Ease You ask me, why, tho’ ill at ease, Within this region I subsist, Whose spirits falter in the mist, And languish for the purple seas. It is the land that freemen till, That sober-suited Freedom chose, The land, where girt with friends or foes A man may speak the thing he will; A land of […]...
- The Mantra-Yoga I How should I seek to make a song for thee When all my music is to moan thy name? That long sad monotone – the same – the same – Matching the mute insatiable sea That throbs with life’s bewitching agony, Too long to measure and too fierce to tame! An hurtful joy, a […]...
- Modern Love XLVIII: Their Sense Their sense is with their senses all mixed in, Destroyed by subleties these women are! More brain, O Lord, more brain! or we shall mar Utterly this fair garden we might win. Behold! I looked for peace, and thought it near. Our inmost hearts had opened, each to each. We drank the pure daylight of […]...
- Missis Moriarty's Boy Missis Moriarty called last week, and says she to me, says she: “Sure the heart of me’s broken entirely now it’s the fortunate woman you are; You’ve still got your Dinnis to cheer up your home, but me Patsy boy where is he? Lyin’ alone, cold as a stone, kilt in the weariful wahr. Oh, […]...
- The Shroud Death, I say, my heart is bowed Unto thine,-O mother! This red gown will make a shroud Good as any other! (I, that would not wait to wear My own bridal things, In a dress dark as my hair Made my answerings. I, to-night, that till he came Could not, could not wait, In a […]...