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The sweetest flowers in all the world- A baby's hands.
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
Flower
Baby
Hands
World
Sweetest
Flowers
More quotes by Algernon Charles Swinburne
To wipe off the froth of falsehood from the foaming lips of inebriated virtue, when fresh from the sexless orgies of morality and reeling from the delirious riot of religion, may doubtless be a charitable office.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
We are not sure of sorrow, And joy was never sure Today will die tomorrow Time stoops to no man's lure.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
In the world of dreams, I have chosen my part.
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
Change lays not her hand upon truth.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Today will die tomorrow.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Stately, kindly, lordly friend Condescend Here to sit by me.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
The tadpole poet will never grow into anything bigger than a frog not though in that stage of development he should puff and blow himself till he bursts with windy adulation at the heels of the laureled ox.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
A little soul scarce fledged for earth Takes wing with heaven again for goal, Even while we hailed as fresh from birth A little soul.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Despair the twin-born of devotion.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Then star nor sun shall waken, Nor any change of light: Nor sound of waters shaken, Nor any sound or sight: Nor wintry leaves nor vernal Nor days nor things diurnal Only the sleep eternal In an eternal night.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
For whom all winds are quiet as the sun,/ All waters as the shore.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Forget that I remember And dream that I forget.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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
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
In hawthorn-time the heart grows light.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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
Fear that makes faith may break faith.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
The delight that consumes the desire, The desire that outruns the delight.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
White rose in red rose-garden Is not so white Snowdrops, that plead for pardon And pine for fright Because the hard East blows Over their maiden vows, Grow not as this face grows from pale to bright.
Algernon Charles Swinburne