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For winter's rains and ruins are over... And in Green under wood and cover Blossum by blossom the spring begins.
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
Ruins
Woods
Begins
Winter
Rain
Rains
Green
Blossom
Spring
Wood
Cover
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Marvellous mercies and infinite love.
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Let weakness learn meekness.
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For whom all winds are quiet as the sun,/ All waters as the shore.
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Wan February with weeping cheer, Whose cold hand guides the youngling year Down misty roads of mire and rime, Before thy pale and fitful face The shrill wind shifts the clouds apace Through skies the morning scarce may climb. Thine eyes are thick with heavy tears, But lit with hopes that light the year's.
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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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Heart's ease of pansy, pleasure or thought, Which would the picture give us of these? Surely the heart that conceived it sought Heart's ease.
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There is no God found stronger than death and death is a sleep.
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In hawthorn-time the heart grows light.
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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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Time stoops to no man's lure.
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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.
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Not with dreams, but with blood and with iron, Shall a nation be moulded at last.
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A young man with a very good past. [Fr., Un jeune homme d'un bien beau passe.]
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His speech is a burning fire.
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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
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While three men hold together, the kingdoms are less by three.
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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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I am tired of tears and laughter, And men that laugh and weep Of what may come hereafter For men that sow to reap: I am weary of days and hours, Blown buds of barren flowers, Desires and dreams and powers And everything but sleep.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Is not Precedent indeed a King of men? A Word from the Psalmist.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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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