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I will go back to the great sweet mother, Mother and lover of men, the sea. I will go down to her, I and no other, Close with her, kiss her and mix her with me.
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
Men
Kissing
Lovers
Sea
Close
Sweet
Mother
Back
Lover
Great
Kiss
More quotes by Algernon Charles Swinburne
And the best and the worst of this is That neither is most to blame, If you have forgotten my kisses And I have forgotten your name.
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His life is a watch or a vision Between a sleep and a sleep.
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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 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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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.
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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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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.
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Hope knows not if fear speaks truth, nor fear whether hope be blind as she.
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There is no God found stronger than death and death is a sleep.
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Love is more cruel than lust.
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The highest spiritual quality, the noblest property of mind a man can have, is this of loyalty.
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My loss may shine yet goodlier than your gain When Time and God give judgment.
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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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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.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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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For words divide and rend But silence is most noble till the end.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
There grows No herb of help to heal a coward heart.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Fate is a sea without a shore, and the soul is a rock that abides.
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.
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His speech is a burning fire.
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