Algernon Charles Swinburne

(5 April 1837 - 10 April 1909 / London)

Algernon Charles Swinburne Poems

1. Origami 11/5/2015
2. A Baby's Feet 2/16/2015
3. Hope And Fear 12/6/2014
4. Anonymous Plays: Xviii 4/12/2010
5. After Looking Into Carlyles Reminiscences 4/12/2010
6. On The Russian Persecution Of The Jews: Sonnets 4/12/2010
7. May Janet 4/12/2010
8. Anonymous Plays:Xvi - ‘arden Of Feversham’ 4/12/2010
9. To William Bell Scott 4/12/2010
10. The Litany Of Nations 1/1/2004
11. To Dr. John Brown: Sonnets 4/12/2010
12. Anonymous Plays: Xvii 4/12/2010
13. John Marston: Xii 4/12/2010
14. Madona Mia 4/12/2010
15. Quia Nominor Leo: Sonnets 4/12/2010
16. The Tribe Of Benjamin: Xv 4/12/2010
17. John Webster: Vii 4/12/2010
18. England Cxvii 4/12/2010
19. Thomas Heywood: X 4/12/2010
20. Mater Dolorosa 1/1/2004
21. Dedication To Joseph Mazzini 1/1/2004
22. A Sequence Of Sonnets On The Death Of Robert Browning 1/1/2004
23. Siena 1/1/2004
24. Messidor 1/1/2004
25. On An Old Roundel 1/1/2004
26. James Shirley: Xiv 4/12/2010
27. Ben Jonson: Iii 4/12/2010
28. Beaumont And Fletcher:Iv 4/12/2010
29. Dedication 4/12/2010
30. John Ford: Vi 4/12/2010
31. First Footsteps 4/12/2010
32. George Chapman:Xi 4/12/2010
33. Philip Massinger: V 4/12/2010
34. On Lamb’s Specimens Of Dramatic Poets: Sonnets 4/12/2010
35. To Victor Hugo 4/12/2010
36. Aholibah 4/12/2010
37. Insularum Ocelle 1/1/2004
38. On The Downs 4/12/2010
39. The Masque Of Queen Bersabe: A Miracle-Play 4/12/2010
40. One Of Twain 1/1/2004

Comments about Algernon Charles Swinburne

  • Johnny Ringo (12/26/2013 11:43:00 PM)

    I love reading Swinburne, some of his works really speak to me and I can read them again and again.

    8 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Dianne Ross (1/22/2013 3:01:00 AM)

    No poet writes more exquisitely of love than dear Swinburne. I will always hold him close to my heart. He was devoted to his Queen.

Best Poem of Algernon Charles Swinburne

A Ballad Of Dreamland

I hid my heart in a nest of roses,
Out of the sun's way, hidden apart;
In a softer bed than the soft white snow's is,
Under the roses I hid my heart.
Why would it sleep not? why should it start,
When never a leaf of the rose-tree stirred?
What made sleep flutter his wings and part?
Only the song of a secret bird.

Lie still, I said, for the wind's wing closes,
And mild leaves muffle the keen sun's dart;
Lie still, for the wind on the warm seas dozes,
And the wind is unquieter yet than thou art.
Does a thought in thee still as a thorn's wound ...

Read the full of A Ballad Of Dreamland

A Marching Song

We mix from many lands,
We march for very far;
In hearts and lips and hands
Our staffs and weapons are;
The light we walk in darkens sun and moon and star.

It doth not flame and wane
With years and spheres that roll,
Storm cannot shake nor stain

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