Literary Criticism (Aestheticism)

Roses and Rue

by Oscar Wilde

Could we dig up this long-buried treasure,
Were it worth the pleasure,
We never could learn love's song,
We are parted too long
Could the passionate past that is fled
Call back its dead,
Could we live it all over again,
Were it worth the pain!
I remember we used to meet
By an ivied seat,
And you warbled each pretty word
With the air of a bird;
And your voice had a quaver in it,
Just like a linnet,
And shook, as the blackbird's throat
With its last big note;
And your eyes, they were green and grey
Like an April day,
But lit into amethyst
When I stooped and kissed;
And your mouth, it would never smile
For a long, long while,
Then it rippled all over with laughter
Five minutes after.
You were always 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.
I remember your hair - did I tie it?
For it always ran riot -
Like a tangled sunbeam of gold:
These things are old.
I remember so well the room,
And the lilac e dripping pane
In the warm June rain;
And the color of your gown,
It was amber-brown,bloom

That beat at th

And two yellow satin bows
From the shoulders rose.
And the handkerchief of French lace
Which you held to your face-
Had a small tear left a stain?
Or was it the rain?
On your hand as it waved adieu
There were veins of blue;
In your voice as it said good-bye
Was a petulant cry,
"You have only wasted your life."
(Ah, that was the knife!)
When I rushed through the garden gate
It was all too late.
Could we live it over again,
Were it worth the pain,
Could the passionate past that is fled
Call back its dead!
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.


 This is probably one of the saddest poems I've read. This will tickle your imagination on how a love could be so perfect but then it has to break your heart into pieces. Oscar Wilde, who is a famous writer surely had an inspiration for this. Every literary piece contains uniqueness and this one definitely has some of it. This poem narrates a story in a way that readers would be motivated to continue reading and enjoy every bit of it.


This poem falls under Aestheticism, a literary theory which emphasizes the absolute autonomy of works of art, their total preeminence over all aspects of life, and their independence of moral and social conditions (http://www.glbtq.com/literature/aestheticism.html). The author used dramatic description of the characters and the situation they are into which will definitely make the reader appreciate beauty and understand it beyond its nature. Art is used in this poem for its concept to be understood clearly.
The rhyming used in this poem could be described as a-a, b-b, c-c, d-d. Whereas, the two consecutive stanzas have the same end sound.  This will be further illustrated below:

Could we dig up this long-buried treasure, -a
Were it worth the pleasure, -a                     
We never could learn love's song, -b
We are parted too long -b
Could the passionate past that is fled -c
Call back its dead, -c
Could we live it all over again, -d
Were it worth the pain! -d

The tone of the poem I say, reflects Sadness which was forcefully satisfied by thinking of the past. This is probably one of the secrets of this poem-----Reminiscing. The speaker tries to think of what had happened in the past which is actually one of the people's habits. Needless to say, this literary piece would definitely catch readers' attention because they can always relate to it.