Algernon Charles Swinburne
Poet
1837-04-05 – 1909-04-10
Algernon Charles Swinburne was an English poet, playwright, novelist, and critic associated with the Victorian literary world. He became one of the most prominent and controversial poets of his generation. He died in 1909.
Books by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Poems and ballads
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Poems
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Quotes by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Before the beginning of yearsThere came to the making of manTime, with a gift of tears;Grief, with a glass that ran;Pleasure, with pain for leaven;Summer, with flowers that fell;Remembrance, fallen from heaven,And madness risen from hell;Strength without hands to smite;Love that endures for a breath;Night, the shadow of light,And Life, the shadow of death.
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For the crown of our life as it closesIs darkness, the fruit there of dust;No thorns go as deep as the 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 divisionMake barren our lives.
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But now, you are twain, you are cloven apartFlesh of his flesh, but heart of my heart.
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From too much love of livingFrom hope and fear set free,We thank with brief thanksgivingWhatever gods may beThat no life lives for ever;That dead men rise up never;That even the weariest riverWinds somewhere safe to sea.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 eternalIn an eternal night.
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Today will die tomorrow.
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Before the beginning of yearsThere came to the making of manTime, with a gift of tears;Grief, with a glass that ran;Pleasure, with pain for leaven;Summer, with flowers that fell;Remembrance, fallen from heaven,And madness risen from hell;Strength without hands to smite;Love that endures for a breath;Night, the shadow of light,And Life, the shadow of death.
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But now, you are twain, you are cloven apartFlesh of his flesh, but heart of my heart.
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From too much love of livingFrom hope and fear set free,We thank with brief thanksgivingWhatever gods may beThat no life lives for ever;That dead men rise up never;That even the weariest riverWinds somewhere safe to sea.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 eternalIn an eternal night.
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Today will die tomorrow.
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For the crown of our life as it closesIs darkness, the fruit there of dust;No thorns go as deep as the 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 divisionMake barren our lives.
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Body and spirit are twins: God only knows which is which.
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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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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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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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There is no God found stronger than death; and death is a sleep.
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Faith speaks when hope dissembles: Faith lives when hope dies dead.
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Thou hast conquered, O pale Galilean; the world has grown grey from thy breath.
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Body and spirit are twins: God only knows which is which: The soul squats down in the flesh, like a tinker drunk in a ditch.
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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.
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Time turns the old days to derision, Our loves into corpses or wives.
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