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I shall sleep, and move with the moving ships, Change as the winds change, veer in the tide.
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
Tides
Ships
Wind
Move
Shall
Sleep
Veer
Moving
Tide
Change
Winds
More quotes by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Today will die tomorrow.
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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.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
As a god self-slain on his own strange altar, Death lies dead.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Sorrow, on wing through the world for ever, Here and there for awhile would borrow Rest, if rest might haply deliver Sorrow.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
His speech is a burning fire.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
The sun is all about the world we see, the breath and strength of every spring.
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
Body and spirit are twins: God only knows which is which.
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
Love is more cruel than lust.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
The delight that consumes the desire, The desire that outruns the delight.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Love, as is told by the seers of old, Comes as a butterfly tipped with gold, Flutters and flies in sunlit skies, Weaving round hearts that were one time cold.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together In sad or singing weather.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Time turns the old days to derision, Our loves into corpses or wives.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
There grows No herb of help to heal a coward heart.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
No blast of air or fire of sun Puts out the light whereby we run With girdled loins our lamplit race, And each from each takes heart of grace And spirit till his turn be done.
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
But now, you are twain, you are cloven apart Flesh of his flesh, but heart of my heart.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
