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II
You were allways afraid of a shower
    (Just like a flower!)
I remember you started and ran
    When the rain began,

I remember I never could catch you
    For no one could match you,
You had wonderful luminous fleet
    Little wings to your feet.

Yet you someway⁴ would give me the prize,
    With a laugh in your eyes,
The rose⁵ from your breast, or the bliss
    Of a single swift kiss

On your neck with it's⁶ marble hue,
    And it's vein of blue, —
How these passionate memories bite
    In my heart, as I write!

⁴ For publication, "someway" was changed to "somehow."
⁵ For publication, a comma was added after "rose."
⁶ For publication, "it's" was changed to "its."

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III
I remember so well the room,
    And the lilac bloom,
That beat at the dripping pane
    In the warm June rain.

And the colour of your gown,
    It was amber-brown,
And two little satin bows
    From your shoulders rose,

And the handkerchief of French lace,
    Which you held to your face, —
Had a tear-drop left a stain?
    Or was it the rain?

"You have only wasted your life,"
    (Ah! there was the knife,)
Those were the words you said,
    As you turned your head.

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I had wasted my boyhood, true,
    But it was for you,
You had poets enough on the shelf,
    I gave you myself!

IV.

Well, if my heart must break,
    Dear love, for your sake,
It will break in music, I know;
    Poets' hearts break so.

But strange that I was not told,
    That the brain can hold
In a tiny ivory cell
    God's Heaven and Hell.

    Oscar Wilde

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not in thee, nor mercy of any kind, thou dids't trample on down the weak with feet of iron, and on mine earth, out of which I made thee, thou dids't spill the innocent blood." of the innocent."

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And the Man answered made answer and said, "Even so did I."
    And again God opened the Book of the Life of the Man, and saw what was written therein.
    And God said to the Man, "Thy life hath been evil, as thou has't wrought lain with the seven sins. The walls of thy chamber were painted with images, and from the bed of thine abominations thou dids't rise up to the sound of flutes. Thou dids't raise build seven altars to the sins I have sufferred, and dids't eat of the things that may not be eaten. The cups of thy feast were full of red with the wine of sin, and in the dishes there was poisonous honey, and the purple of thy raiment was broidered with the three signs of shame. Thine idols were neither of gold nor of silver, which endure, but of flesh that dieth. Thou dids't stain their hair with perfumes, colours a[n]d put strange flowers into set pomegranates in their hands. Thou dids't stain their feet with perfumes, and set spread carpets before them. With antimony thou dids't stain their eyelids, and their bodies thou dids't smear with myrrh. Thou dids't bow thyself to the ground before them,

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and in groves and on high places thou didst worship them. In thine idolatry thou dids't bow thyself to the ground, and the thrones of thine idols were set in the sun. Thou dids't show to the sun thy shame and to the moon thy madness."

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And the mad answered made answer and said, "Even so did I."
    And a third time God opened the Book of the Life of the Man, and saw what was written therein.
    And God said to the Man, "Evil hath been thy life, and with evil dids't thou repay requite good, and with wrongdoing dids't thou answer kindness. The hands that fed thee thou dids't wound, and the breasts that suckled thee gave thee suck thou dids't despise. With lying lips thou dids't kiss the mouth of truth, and with a false tongue thou dids't answer call on Wisdom. He who brought came to thee with a gift went away empty, and those who hid thee in their tents at night thou dids't betray before dawn. Thine enemy who spared thee thou dids't slay snare in an ambush, and thy friend who walked with thee thou dids't sell for a price, and to those who brought thee Love thou dids't ever give Lust in answer payment."
    And the Man answered made answer and said, "Even so did I."

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And God closed the Book of the Life of the Man, and said, "Surely I shall send thee to Hell. Even unto Hell shall I send thee."
    And the Man answered and said cried out, "Thou cans't not."
    And God said to the Man, "Wherefore can I not send thee to Hell, and for what reason?"
    And the Man made answer, and said, "Because I have always lived in it." answered the Man.
    And there was silence in the House of Judgment.
    And after a space God spake, and said to the Man, "Seeing that I may not send thee to Hell, surely I shall send thee to Heaven. Shall Even unto Heaven shall I send thee."
    And the Man answered and said cried out, "Thou cans't not."
    And God said to the Man, "Wherefore can I not send thee to Heaven, and for what reason?"
    Parag. And the Man made answer and said, "Because never, and in no place, have I been able to imagine it." answered the Man.
    And there was silence in the House of Judgment.

    Oscar Wilde

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fire and set it in a great furnace, and gave it to the fire.
    And out of the bronze of the image of The Sorrow that endureth for Ever he fashioned the image of The Pleasure that abideth for a Moment. For he could only think in bronze.

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And he passed out of the house and went again into the street.
    And after a little while he saw one whose face and raiment were painted and whose feet were were shod with pearls. And behind her walked came slowly as a hunter a young man who wore a cloak of two colours. And Now the face of the woman was as the fair face of an idol, and the eyes of the young man were bright with lust.
    And He followed swiftly and touched the hand of the young man on the shoulder and said to him "Why do you look in this manner at this woman and in this manner?"
    And the young man turned round and recognised him and said, "But I was blind once, and you healed me. At what else should I look."
    And He ran went forward and touched the painted raiment of the woman and said to her "Is there no other way in which to walk save the way of sin?"
    And the woman turned round and recognised him and laughed and said "But you forgave me my sins, and the way is a pleasant way."
    And everywhere that he went in this city he found that those whom he had healed living for pleasure and for pleasure only.
    [And he passed out of the city.
    [And when he had passed out of the city he saw seated by the roadside a young man who was weeping.
    And he went towards him and touched him his hair and said to him "Whey are you weeping?"
    And the young man turned looked up and recognised him and

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an made answer, "But I was dead once and you raised me from the dead. It is for that reason that I am weeping."

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lay on my banks and looked down at me, in the mirror of his eyes I saw ever my own beauty mirrored."

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their narrow houses, and at my bidding a barren fig tree withered away. And yet they have not crucified All things that this man has done I have done also. And yet they have not crucified me. It is for that reason I am weeping.

    Oscar Wilde

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The Selfish Giant

Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used to go and play in the Giant's garden.
    It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them. "How happy we are here!" cried the children to each other.¹
    One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years. After the seven years were over he had said all he had to say, ² and he determined to return to his own castle. When he arrived he saw the children playing in the garden.
    "What are you doing there³?" he cried in a very gruff voice, and the children ran away.
    "My own garden is my own garden," said the Giant; "any one can understand that, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself." So he built a high wall all round it, and put up a notice-board.

¹For publication, "cried the children to each other" was changed to "they cried to each other."
²For publication, "all he had to say" was changed to "all that he had to say, for his conversation was limited."
³For publication, the word "there" was changed to "here."
⁴For publication, only the center notice was printed.

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He was a very selfish Giant.
    The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried to play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they did not like it. They used to wander round the high wall⁵ when their lessons were over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside. "How happy we were there!" they said to each other.
    Then the Spring came, and all over the country there were little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was still winter. The birds did not care to sing in it as there were no children, and the trees forgot to blossom. Once a beautiful flower put its head out from the grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was so sorry for the children that it slipped back into the ground again, and went off to sleep. The only people who were pleased were the Snow and the Frost. "Spring has forgotten this garden," they cried, "so we will live here all the year round." The Snow covered up the grass with her great white cloak, and the Frost painted all the trees silver. Then they invited the North Wind to stay with them, and he came. He was dressed⁶ in furs, and he roared all day about the garden, and blew the chimney-pots down. "This is a delightful spot," he said, "we must ask the Hail to come here."⁷ So the Hail came. Every day for three hours the Hail⁸ rattled on the roof of the castle till he broke most of the slates, and then he ran round and round the garden as

⁵For publication, "wall" was changed to "walls."
⁶For publication, "dressed" was changed to "wrapped."
⁷For publication, "to come here" was changed to "on a visit."
⁸For publication, "the Hail" was changed to "he."

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fast as he could go. He was dressed in grey, and his breath was like ice.
    "I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming," said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold, white garden; "I hope there will be a change in the weather."
    But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the Giant's garden she gave none. "He is too selfish," she said. So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind and the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees.
    One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard the most⁹ lovely music. It sounded so sweet¹⁰ that he thought it must be the King's musicians passing by. It was really only a little linnet singing outside the¹¹ window, but it was so long since he had heard one¹² that it seemed to him the most beautiful singing possible.¹³ Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North Wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open casement. "I believe the Spring has come at last," said the Giant; up he jumped and looked out of the window.¹⁴
    What did he see?
    He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in the wall the children had crept in, and were sitting on¹⁵ the branches of the trees. In every tree that he

⁹For publication, "the most" was changed to "some."
¹⁰For publication, "to his ears" was added here.
¹¹For publication, "the" was changed to "his."
¹²For publication, "one" was changed to "a bird sing in his garden."
¹³For publication, the most beautiful singing possible" was changed to "to be the most beautiful music in the world."
¹⁴For publication, "the window" was changed to "bed and looked out."
¹⁵For publication, "were sitting on" was changed to "they were sitting in."

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he could see there was a little child. And the trees were so glad to have the children back again that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and were waving their arms gently above the children's heads. The birds were flying about and twittering with delight, and the flowers were looking up through the green grass and laughing. It was a lovely scene, only in one corner it was still winter. It was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little boy. He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree, and he was crying bitterly and wandering all round it.¹⁶ The poor tree was still quite¹⁷ covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was blowing and roaring above it. "Climb up! little boy," said the Tree, and¹⁸ bent its branches down as low as it could; but the boy was too tiny.
    The Giant's¹⁹ heart melted as he looked out. "How selfish I have been!" he said; "now I know why the Spring would not come here. I will put that poor little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock down the wall, and my garden shall be the children's playground for ever and ever." He was so²⁰ sorry for what he had done.
    So he crept downstairs and opened the front door very²¹ softly, and went out into the garden. But when the children saw him they were so frightened that they all ran away, and the garden became winter again.

¹⁶For publication, "he was crying bitterly and wandering all round it" was changed to "he was wandering all round it, crying bitterly."
¹⁷For publication, the word "quite" was deleted.
¹⁸For publication, the word "it" was added here.
¹⁹For publication, "The Giant's" was changed to "And the Giant's."
²⁰For publication, "so" was changed to "really very."
²¹For publication, "very" was changed to "quite."

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    Only the little boy did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears that he could²² not see the Giant coming. And the Giant came²³ up behind him and took him gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree. And the tree broke at once into blossom, and the birds came and sang on it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms and flung them round the Giant's neck, and kissed him. And the other children when they saw that the Giant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and with them came the Spring. "It is your garden now, little children," said the Giant, and he took a great axe and knocked down the wall. And when the people were going to market at twelve o'clock they saw²⁴ the Giant playing with the children in the most beautiful garden in the world.²⁵
    All day long they played, and in the evening they came to the Giant to bid him good-bye.
    "But where is your little companion?" he said: "the boy I put into the tree." The Giant loved him the best because he had kissed him.
    "We don't know," answered the children: "he has gone away."
    "You must tell him to be sure and come here²⁶ to-morrow," said the Giant. But the children said that they did not know where he lived, they²⁷ had never seen him before; and the Giant felt very sad.
    Every afternoon when school was over

²²For publication, "could" was changed to "did."
²³For publication, "came" was changed to "stole."
²⁴For publication, "saw" was changed to "found."
²⁵For publication, "in the world" was changed to "they had ever seen."
²⁶For publication, "here" was deleted.
²⁶For publication, "they" was deleted.

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the children came and played with the Giant. But the little boy whom the Giant loved was never seen again. The Giant was very kind to all the children, yet he longed for his first little friend, and often spoke of him. "How I would like to see him!" he used to say.
    Years went over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble. He could not play about any more, so he sat in a huge arm-chair, and watched the children at their games, and admired his garden. "I have many beautiful flowers," he said; "but the children are the most beautiful flowers of all."
    One winter morning he looked out of his window as he was dressing. He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew that it was merely the Spring asleep, and that the flowers were resting.
    Suddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder and looked and looked. It certainly was a marvellous sight. In the farthest corner of the garden was a tree²⁷ covered with lovely white blossoms. Its branches were²⁸ golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath²⁹ stood the little boy he had loved.
    Downstairs ran the Giant in great delight,³⁰ and out into the garden. He hastened across the grass, and came near to the child. And when he came quite close his face grew red with anger, and he said, "Who

²⁷For publication, the word "quite" was inserted here.
²⁸For publication, the word "all" was inserted here.
²⁹For publication, the word "it" was inserted here.
³⁰For publication, "delight" was changed to "joy."

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has³¹ dared to wound thee?" For on the palms of the child's hands were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on his³² feet.
    "Who has³¹ dared to wound you? "³³ cried the Giant; "tell me, that I may take my big sword and slay him."
    "Nay!" answered the child: "but this was done many years ago, that all men might be saved." ³⁴
    "Who art thou?" said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.
    And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, "You let me play once in your garden, to-day you will³⁵ come with me to my garden, which is Paradise."
    And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.

    Oscar Wilde

³¹For publication, "has" was changed to "hath."
³²For publication, "his" was changed to "the little."
³³For publication, "you" was changed to "thee."
³⁴For publication, "this was done many years ago, that all men might be saved" was changed to "these are the wounds of Love."
³⁵For publication, "will" was changed to "shall."

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O ship that shakes on the desolate sea!
    O ship with the wet white sail!
Put in, put in, to the port to me!
        For my love and I would go
        To the land where the daffodils blow
    In the heart of a violet dale!
O ship that shakes on the desolate sea!
    O ship with the wet white sail!

"Under the Balcony."
Autograph manuscript signed, ca. 1884. 4 p.
Accession number: MA 7258.8

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(3)

O rapturous bird with the low sweet note!
    O bird that sits on the spray!
Sing on, sing on, from your soft brown throat!
        And my love in her little bed
        Will listen, and lift her head
    From the pillow, and come my way!
O rapturous bird with the low sweet note!
    O bird that sits on the spray!

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O blossom that hangs in the tremulous air!
    O blossom with lips of snow!
Come down, come down, for my love to wear!
    You will
        You will die on her head in a crown,
        You will die in a fold of her gown,
    To her little light heart you will go!
O blossom that hangs in the tremulous air!
    O blossom with lips of snow!

    Oscar Wilde

N.B. Proof to be sent to 9 Charles St
Grosvenor Sqre.

Page 2

unfailing kindness to all who w strive to follow after your high Ideals.
    Apologising for the trouble I may be giving you,
    I remain
    very truly yrs
    Bernulf Clegg

Oscar Wilde Esq.
    [in another hand:] April 1891

Pages 2-3

the note of its pleasure is sterility. If the contemplation of a work of art is followed by activity of any kind, the work is either of a very second-rate order, or the spectator has failed to realise the complete artistic impression.
    A work of art is useless as a flower is useless. A flower blossoms for its own joy. We gain a moment of joy by looking at it. That is

Page 4

all that is to be said about our relations to flowers. Of course man may sell the flower, and so make it useful to him, but this has nothing to do with the flower. It is not part of its essence. It is accidental. It is a misuse. All this is I fear very obscure. But the subject is a long one.

Truly yours,
Oscar Wilde

Pages 2–3

go to Paris next week—for 10 days or so. Are you really going to the Scilly Isles?
    I should awfully like to go away with you somewhere—where it is hot and coloured—
    I am terribly busy in

Page 4

town—Tree rushing up to see me on all occasions—also strange and troubling personalities walking in painted pageants—
    Of the poem I will write tomorrow.

Ever yours
Oscar

Pages 2–3

have kept the childlike faculties of wonder and joy, and who find in simplicity a subtle strangeness.
    If you come to tea some Wednesday about 5.30 o[']c[lock]. I will be charmed to write your name in the book.
    I hope your painting is going on all right.

Truly yours
Oscar Wilde

[envelope]

George Herbert Kersley Esq.
16 Honor Road
West Kensington

Pages 2-3

more proofs of the play, but I wish that the reader w[oul]d. go through the play once and correct any slips in the use of "will" and "shall"—my use of the words is Celtic not Saxon.
    With regard to future arrangements I think the plays better remain with Mr. Lane—at Bodley Head—as they form a series that should not be broken—

Page 4

Mr. Mathews might have "The Portrait of Mr. W.H."—and this w[oul]d. give an opportunity of making some alterations in the issue and price—300 or 250—and 50 large paper w[oul]d. be better. Also the book sh[oul]d. be a guinea. These, at least, are

Page 5

Mr. Ricketts' views. This book should be out by end of October.
    I have to get the Woman of No Importance copyrighted simultaneously in America (please mark copyright as in Lady Windermere:

Page 6-7

this is most important) –and am sending proofs to New York. I think the book can be out by Sept. 15. when the play goes on tour. I shall tell my American agent to wire to me as soon as copyright is secured, so as to have no delay.
    The play sh[oul]d. have a good sale at Liverpool—where it has been lectured on, and formed a text for reckless sermons.

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    I have to thank you for allowing my wife to make selections of phrases for her anthology.

I remain truly
Oscar Wilde