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A young man with a very good past. [Fr., Un jeune homme d'un bien beau passe.]

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
Homme
Beau
Past
Young
Good
Men
Passe
Bien

More quotes by Algernon Charles Swinburne

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Change lays her hand not upon the truth.
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We are not sure of sorrow, And joy was never sure Today will die tomorrow Time stoops to no man's lure.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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The delight that consumes the desire, The desire that outruns the delight.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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The tadpole poet will never grow into anything bigger than a frog.
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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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His life is a watch or a vision Between a sleep and a sleep.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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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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The sun is all about the world we see, the breath and strength of every spring.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Who knows but on their sleep may rise Such light as never heaven let through To lighten earth from Paradise?
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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While three men hold together, the kingdoms are less by three.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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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
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Then star nor sun shall waken, Nor any change of light: Nor sound of waters shaken, Nor any sound or sight: Nor wintry leaves nor vernal Nor days nor things diurnal Only the sleep eternal In an eternal night.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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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.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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If you were Queen of pleasure And I were King of pain We'd hunt down Love together, Pluck out his flying-feather, And teach his feet a measure, And find his mouth a rein If you were Queen of pleasure And I were King of pain.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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In hawthorn-time the heart grows light.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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There grows No herb of help to heal a coward heart.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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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.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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For whom all winds are quiet as the sun,/ All waters as the shore.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Time turns the old days to derision, Our loves into corpses or wives.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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In friendship's fragrant garden, There are flowers of every hue. Each with its own fair beauty And its gift of joy for you. Friendship's Garden 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