jim broadbent - on easter day by oscar wilde lyrics
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the silver trumpets rang across the dome:
the people knelt upon the ground with awe:
and borne upon the necks of men i saw
like some great god, the holy lord of rome
priest+like, he wore a robe more white than foam
and, king+like, swathed himself in royal red
three crowns of gold rose high upon his head:
in splendor and in light the pope passed home
my heart stole back across wide wastes of yеars
to one who wandered by a lonеly sea
and sought in vain for any place of rest:
“foxes have holes, and every bird its nest
i, only i, must wander wearily
and bruise my feet, and drink wine salt with tears.”
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