Oscar Wilde & Requiescat

Oscar Wilde was only two when his little sister, Isola Francesca Emily Wilde, was born in 1857. The little girl was soon a ray of sunshine in the Wilde home and the family adored her. However, in 1867 Isola became ill with a fever. She appeared to be recovering well and was sent to recuperate with her aunt and uncle at Edgeworthstown, Ireland. There, just two months short of her tenth birthday, little Isola took a turn for the worse. Her parents rushed to her bedside, but on 23 February Isola died from “a sudden effusion on the brain” (probably meningitis). She was buried in the local St John’s cemetery and Oscar often went there to remember her.

There are echoes of Isola in his writings – the beautiful Dorian Grey who never grows old, and the young girl in The Canterville Ghost whose love transcends death.

But his loveliest tribute is the 1894 poem Requiescat, which reflects on death and the transience of beauty. The title comes from the Latin, meaning ‘rest in peace’. He acknowledges his sister’s death, yet still hopes that she is somehow there in spirit, still able to hear the flowers grow.

Requiescat by Oscar Wilde

Tread lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.

All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.

Lily-like, white as snow,
She hardly knew
She was a woman, so
Sweetly she grew.

Coffin-board, heavy stone,
Lie on her breast,
I vex my heart alone
She is at rest.

Peace, Peace, she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet,
All my life’s buried here,
Heap earth upon it.

The poem is written in an almost conversational tone. The mood is sombre, but the poet goes through varying emotions, as he moves from a state of denial about her death, to one of unhappy acceptance. He moves from thinking she can hear flowers grow, to realising that she can hear neither lyre or sonnet.

I have taken tour groups to see the grave and have read this moving poem in the graveyard.