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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
Sweet
Mother
Back
Lover
Great
Kiss
Men
Kissing
Lovers
Sea
Close
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His speech is a burning fire.
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Fate is a sea without a shore, and the soul is a rock that abides.
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Hope thou not much, and fear thou not at all.
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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.
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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.
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My loss may shine yet goodlier than your gain When Time and God give judgment.
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Ask nothing more of me sweet All I can give you I give Heart of my heart were it more, More would be laid at your feet.
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Today will die tomorrow.
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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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The sun is all about the world we see, the breath and strength of every spring.
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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.
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Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
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Time turns the old days to derision, Our loves into corpses or wives.
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There is no safety-net to protect against attraction.
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While three men hold together, the kingdoms are less by three.
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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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His life is a watch or a vision Between a sleep and a sleep.
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