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Cold autumn, wan with wrath of wind and rain, Saw pass a soul sweet as the sovereign tune That death smote silent when he smote again.
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
Death
Tunes
Soul
Pass
Rain
Silent
Smote
Saws
Wrath
Sweet
Tune
Wind
Sovereign
Cold
Autumn
More quotes by Algernon Charles Swinburne
For words divide and rend But silence is most noble till the end.
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There is no safety-net to protect against attraction.
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Love, till dawn sunder night from day with fire Dividing my delight and my desire.
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In the world of dreams, I have chosen my part.
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When I hear that a personal friend has fallen into matrimonial courses, I feel the same sorrow as if I had heard of his lapsing into theism — a holy sorrow, unmixed with anger.
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Hope knows not if fear speaks truth, nor fear whether hope be blind as she.
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There grows No herb of help to heal a coward heart.
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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.
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Our way is where God knows And Love knows where: We are in Love's hand to-day.
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Love laid his sleepless head On a thorny rose bed: And his eyes with tears were red, And pale his lips as the dead.
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Stately, kindly, lordly friend Condescend Here to sit by me.
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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.
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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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As a god self-slain on his own strange altar, Death lies dead.
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.
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Is not Precedent indeed a King of men? A Word from the Psalmist.
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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
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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Where might is, the right is: Long purses make strong swords. Let weakness learn meekness: God save the House of Lords!
Algernon Charles Swinburne
The beast faith lives on its own dung.
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