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Love laid his sleepless head On a thorny rose bed: And his eyes with tears were red, And pale his lips as the dead.
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
Rose
Tears
Thorny
Dead
Sleepless
Head
Pale
Eyes
Laid
Eye
Red
Love
Bed
Life
Lips
More quotes by Algernon Charles Swinburne
There is no such thing as a dumb poet or a handless painter. The essence of an artist is that he should be articulate.
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In hawthorn-time the heart grows light.
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The beast faith lives on its own dung.
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The loves and hours of the life of a man, They are swift and sad, being born of the sea.
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Change lays not her hand upon truth.
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Despair the twin-born of devotion.
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Fruits fail and love dies and time rangesThou art fed with perpetual breath, and alive after infinite changes,And fresh from the kisses of death,Of langours rekindled and rallied, Of barren delights and unclean,Things monstrous and fruitless, a pallidAnd poisonous queen.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
My loss may shine yet goodlier than your gain When Time and God give judgment.
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I have lived long enough, having seen one thing, that love hath an end
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Not with dreams, but with blood and with iron, Shall a nation be moulded at last.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
There lived a singer in France of old By the tideless dolorous midland sea. In a land of sand and rain and gold There shone one woman, and none but she.
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When the hounds of Spring are on winter's traces, The mother of months in meadow or plain Fills the shadows and windy places With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Thou has conquered, O pale Galilean.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Fear that makes faith may break faith.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
She knows not loves that kissed her She knows not where. Art thou the ghost, my sister, White sister there, Am I the ghost, who knows? My hand, a fallen rose, Lies snow-white on white snows, and takes no care.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Love, as is told by the seers of old, Comes as a butterfly tipped with gold, Flutters and flies in sunlit skies, Weaving round hearts that were one time cold.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
There grows No herb of help to heal a coward heart.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Wherever there is a grain of loyalty there is a glimpse of freedom.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
At the door of life by the gate of breath, There are worse things waiting for men than death.
Algernon Charles Swinburne