Uploaded June 2025 | Updated September 2026, 1 week ago

---

Lyric: Oscar Wilde

Is it thy will that I should wax and wane,
Barter my cloth of gold for hodden grey?

And at thy pleasure weave that web of pain,
Whose brightest threads are each a wasted day?
Is it thy will—Love that I love so well—
That my Soul's House should be a tortured spot?

Nay, if it be thy will, I shall endure,
And sell ambition at the common mart.
Let sorrow dig its grave within my heart —
I have not made my heart a heart of stone.

Nor starved my boyhood of its goodly feast,
Nor walked where Beauty is a thing unknown.
Many a man hath done so, sought to fence
The soul that should be free, in bonds alone.

Not marking how the hawk in flight
Passed to where the mountains meet the light.
Or how the daisy watched the sun,
Content to glow and be undone...

But surely it is something to have been
The best beloved for a little while.
To walk with Love and glimpse his wings
Flit once across thy smile...

The Love which moves the Sun and all the stars...