poesie di Pasqua

In occasione della Pasqua, vorrei farVi conoscere un aspetto do Oscar Wilde un po’ sconosciuto, il poeta religioso.
Questa poesia si intitola semplicemente Easter Day:

The silver trumpets rang across the Dome:                   trumpets: trombe ; Dome: tempio
The people knelt upon the ground with awe:                  knelt: si inginocchiava;  awe:
And borne upon the necks of men I saw,                      borne:    necks. collo
Like some great God, the Holy Lord of Rome.
Priest-like, he wore a robe more white than foam,        robe: veste; foam: schiuma
And, king-like, swathed himself in royal red,               swathered:
Three crowns of gold rose high upon his head:
In splendour and in light the Pope passed home.
My heart stole back across wide wastes of years
To One who wandered by a lonely 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.’