November 5, 2024

Early Oscar Wilde poem sells for an awful lot of money as does Edward Lear’s Uncle Arly

A hand-written work by Oscar Wilde sold for over £60,000 yesterday at an auction at Bonhams. The poem ‘Heart’s Yearnings’ was signed Oscar O’F Wilde, a signature that Wilde stopped using in 1876. The poem can be dated to 1873-4 and includes revisions in his own hand. It is thought that this is the earliest extant Wilde poem and was unpublished during Wilde’s life.

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Oscar Wilde handwritten poem © Bonhams

The sale also included works by Sassoon, Yeats, Plath, Larkin and Rossetti. The draft of Sassoon’s war poem, ‘Atrocities’ showed how he toned down the imagery before final publication. Sylvia Plath’s work had not been seen at auction before and her working papers for ‘Sheep in Fog’ made £37,000. Edward Lear’s final nonsense poem ‘Some incidents in the life of my Uncle Arly’ sold for £10,000. If you weren’t the lucky purchaser here is the poem in full, although not in the poet’s own fair hand. It doesn’t seem to make any sense…

 

I

O! My aged Uncle Arly!

Sitting on a heap of Barley

      Thro’ the silent hours of night,–

Close beside a leafy thicket:–

On his nose there was a Cricket,–

In his hat a Railway-Ticket;–

      (But his shoes were far too tight.)

II

Long ago, in youth, he squander’d

All his goods away, and wander’d

      To the Tiniskoop-hills afar.

There on golden sunsets blazing,

Every morning found him gazing,–

Singing — “Orb! you’re quite amazing!

      How I wonder what you are!”

III

Like the ancient Medes and Persians,

Always by his own exertions

      He subsisted on those hills;–

Whiles, — by teaching children spelling,–

Or at times by merely yelling,–

Or at intervals by selling

      “Propter’s Nicodemus Pills.”

IV

Later, in his morning rambles

He perceived the moving brambles–

      Something square and white disclose;–

“Twas a First-class Railway Ticket;

But, on stooping down to pick it

Off the ground, — a pea-green Cricket

      settled on my uncle’s Nose.

V

Never — never more, — Oh! never,

Did that Cricket leave him ever,–

      Dawn or evening, day or night;–

Clinging as a constant treasure,–

Chirping with a cheerious measure,–

Wholly to my uncle’s pleasure

      (Though his shoes were far too tight.)

VI

So for three-and-forty winters,

Till his shoes were worn to splinters,

      All those hills he wander’d o’er,–

Sometimes silent; — sometimes yelling;–

Till he came to Borley-Melling,

Near his old ancestral dwelling;–

      (But his shoes were far too tight.)

VII

On a little heap of Barley

Died my aged uncle Arly,

      And they buried him one night;–

Close beside the leafy thicket;–

There, — his hat and Railway-Ticket;–

There, — his ever-faithful Cricket;–

      (But his shoes were far too tight.)

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