| Padraic Colum (1881–1972). Anthology of Irish Verse. 1922. |
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| 149. Helas! |
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| By Oscar Wilde |
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| TO drift with every passion till my soul | |
| Is as a stringed lute on which all winds can play, | |
| Is it for this that I have given away | |
| Mine ancient wisdom and austere control? | |
| Methinks my life is a twice-written scroll | 5 |
| Scrawled over on some boyish holiday | |
| With idle songs for pipe and virelay, | |
| Which do but mar the secret of the whole. | |
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| Surely there was a time I might have trod | |
| The sunlit heights, and from life’s dissonance | 10 |
| Struck one clear chord to reach the ears of God: | |
| Is that time dead? Lo! with a little rod | |
| I did but touch the honey of romance— | |
| And must I lose my soul’s inheritance? | |
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