Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburnewas an English poet, playwright, novelist, and critic. He wrote several novels and collections of poetry such as Poems and Ballads, and contributed to the famous Eleventh Edition of the Encyclopædia Britannica. A controversial figure at the time, Swinburne was a sado-masochist and alcoholic and was obsessed with the Middle Ages and lesbianism...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth5 April 1837
beauty clouds rose
Though one were fair as roses His beauty clouds and closes.
dream remember forget
Forget that I remember And dream that I forget.
sweet kissing littles
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.
christianity pale
Thou has conquered, O pale Galilean.
love-is lust
Love is more cruel than lust.
time spring rain
For winter's rains and ruins are over, And all the season of snows and sins; The days dividing lover and lover, The light that loses, the night that wins; And time remembered isgrief forgotten, And frosts are slain and flowers begotten, And in green underwood and cover Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
artist essence dumb
There is no such thing as a dumb poet or a handless painter. The essence of an artist is that he should be articulate.
love infinite mercy
Marvellous mercies and infinite love.
baby flower hands
The sweetest flowers in all the world- A baby's hands.
strong long house
Where might is, the right is: Long purses make strong swords. Let weakness learn meekness: God save the House of Lords!
sad wings sorrow
Sorrow, on wing through the world for ever, Here and there for awhile would borrow Rest, if rest might haply deliver Sorrow...
queens kings pain
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.
kissing missing shame
To say of shame - what is it? Of virtue - we can miss it; Of sin-we can kiss it, And it's no longer sin.
weed hands weather
In fierce March weather White waves break tether, And whirled together At either hand, Like weeds uplifted, The tree-trunks rifted In spars are drifted, Like foam or sand.