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I dore not always touch her, lest the kiss Leave my lips charred. Yea, Lord, a little bliss, Brief, bitter bliss, one hath for a great sin Nathless thou knowest how sweet a thing it is.
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
Lord
Bitter
Littles
Kissing
Little
Thou
Charred
Great
Lips
Lest
Thing
Touch
Brief
Always
Sin
Hath
Sweet
Bliss
Leave
Kiss
More quotes by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Not with dreams, but with blood and with iron, Shall a nation be moulded at last.
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Time stoops to no man's lure.
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While three men hold together, the kingdoms are less by three.
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No blast of air or fire of sun Puts out the light whereby we run With girdled loins our lamplit race, And each from each takes heart of grace And spirit till his turn be done.
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When fate has allowed to any man more than one great gift, accident or necessity seems usually to contrive that one shall encumber and impede the other.
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The highest spiritual quality, the noblest property of mind a man can have, is this of loyalty.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Sorrow, on wing through the world for ever, Here and there for awhile would borrow Rest, if rest might haply deliver Sorrow.
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There is no safety-net to protect against attraction.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
For winter's rains and ruins are over... And in Green under wood and cover Blossum by blossom the spring begins.
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But now, you are twain, you are cloven apart Flesh of his flesh, but heart of my heart.
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Our way is where God knows And Love knows where: We are in Love's hand to-day.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
In the world of dreams, I have chosen my part. To sleep for a season and hear no word Of true love's truth or of light love's art, Only the song of a secret bird.
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For the crown of our life as it closes Is darkness, the fruit thereof dust No thorns go as deep as a rose's, And love is more cruel than lust. Time turns the old days to derision, Our loves into corpses or wives And marriage and death and division Make barren our lives.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
And lo, between the sundawn and the sun His day's work and his night's work are undone: And lo, between the nightfall and the light, He is not, and none knoweth of such an one.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Fate is a sea without a shore, and the soul is a rock that abides.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Sleep and if life was bitter to thee, pardon, If sweet, give thanks thou hast no more to live And to give thanks is good, and to forgive.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
His life is a watch or a vision Between a sleep and a sleep.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
To say of shame - what is it? Of virtue - we can miss it Of sin-we can kiss it, And it's no longer sin.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
There was a poor poet named Clough, Whom his friends all united to puff, But the public, though dull, Had not such a skull As belonged to believers in Clough.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
From too much love of living, From hope and fear set free, We thank with brief thanksgiving Whatever gods may be That no life lives for ever That dead men rise up never That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safe to sea.
Algernon Charles Swinburne