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Thou hast conquered, O pale Galilean the world has grown grey from thy breath/ We have drunken of things Lethean, and fed on the fullness of death

Algernon Charles Swinburne

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Algernon Charles Swinburne
Age: 72 †
Born: 1837
Born: April 5
Died: 1909
Died: April 10
Literary Critic
Poet
Writer
London
England
Algernon Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swiburne
Breath
Hast
Breaths
Pagan
Thou
Conquered
Death
Fullness
Things
Feds
World
Grey
Pale
Drunken
Grown
Heathen

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A baby's feet, like sea-shells pink Might tempt, should heaven see meet, An angel's lips to kiss, we think, A baby's feet.
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The tadpole poet will never grow into anything bigger than a frog.
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The sweetest flowers in all the world- A baby's hands.
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Forget that I remember And dream that I forget.
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We, drinking love at the furthest springs, Covered with love as a covering tree, We had grown as gods, as the gods above, Filled from the heart to the lips with love, Held fast in his hands, clothed warm with his wings, O love, my love, had you loved but me!
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His speech is a burning fire.
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Time turns the old days to derision, Our loves into corpses or wives.
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Before the beginning of years There came to the making of man Time with a gift of tears, Grief with a glass that ran .
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The sun is all about the world we see, the breath and strength of every spring.
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Hope knows not if fear speaks truth, nor fear whether hope be blind as she.
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His life is a watch or a vision Between a sleep and a sleep.
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While three men hold together, the kingdoms are less by three.
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Love lies bleeding in the bed whereover Roses lean with smiling mouths or pleading: Earth lies laughing where the sun's dart clove her: Love lies bleeding.
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In fierce March weather White waves break tether, And whirled together At either hand, Like weeds uplifted, The tree-trunks rifted In spars are drifted, Like foam or sand.
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In friendship's fragrant garden, There are flowers of every hue. Each with its own fair beauty And its gift of joy for you. Friendship's Garden If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together In sad or singing weather.
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Doubt is faith in the main: but faith, on the whole, is doubt We cannot believe by proof: but could we believe without?
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Change lays not her hand upon truth.
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To have read the greatest works of any great poet, to have beheld or heard the greatest works of any great painter or musician, is a possession added to the best things of life.
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Yet leave me not yet, if thou wilt, be free love me no more, but love my love of thee.
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For winter's rains and ruins are over, And all the season of snows and sins The days dividing lover and lover, The light that loses, the night that wins And time remembered isgrief forgotten, And frosts are slain and flowers begotten, And in green underwood and cover Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
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