At the shrine

While Paula was resting her feet on Tuesday, I went off iin search of Oscar Wilde.  Born Dublin kittycorner from Merrion Square, he eluded us on our last trip, because we went to the wrong park.  But his statue is only a few block form the Busswell Hotel, and I am determined to see him up cclose this time.  He reclines on a rock, a statue carved of three or four different kinds of stone, a sardonic smile on his face and flanked by two pillars inscribed with some of his epigrams.  The university in Wausau will be presenting his play, The Importance of Being Earnest, when we return, and a picture of the statue might interest the director professor.