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At the door of life by the gate of breath, There are worse things waiting for men than 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
Worse
Doors
Waiting
Fear
Gate
Death
Gates
Things
Breath
Men
Breaths
Life
Door
More quotes by Algernon Charles Swinburne
The sweetest flowers in all the world- A baby's hands.
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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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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.
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God's own hand Holds fast all issues of our deeds: with him The end of all our ends is, but with us Our ends are, just or unjust: though our works Find righteous or unrighteous judgment, this At least is ours, to make them righteous.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
The highest spiritual quality, the noblest property of mind a man can have, is this of loyalty.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
I shall sleep, and move with the moving ships, Change as the winds change, veer in the tide.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Love, till dawn sunder night from day with fire Dividing my delight and my desire.
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Despair the twin-born of devotion.
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Who knows but on their sleep may rise Such light as never heaven let through To lighten earth from Paradise?
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I that have love and no more Give you but love of you, sweet He that hath more, let him give He that hath wings, let him soar Mine is the heart at your feet Here, that must love you to live.
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The beast faith lives on its own dung.
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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.
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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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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
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.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Doubt is faith in the main: but faith, on the whole, is doubt We cannot believe by proof: but could we believe without?
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Wherever there is a grain of loyalty there is a glimpse of freedom.
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Cold autumn, wan with wrath of wind and rain, Saw pass a soul sweet as the sovereign tune That death smote silent when he smote again.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Forget that I remember And dream that I forget.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
On the mountains of memory by the world's wellsprings, in all man's eyes, where the light of life of him is on all past things, death only dies.
Algernon Charles Swinburne