Algernon Charles Swinburne

(5 April 1837 - 10 April 1909 / London)

Algernon Charles Swinburne Poems

201. Wasted Love 1/1/2004
202. Anactoria 4/12/2010
203. A Marching Song 1/1/2004
204. A Clasp Of Hands 12/31/2002
205. Music: An Ode 12/31/2002
206. A Night-Piece By Millet 1/1/2004
207. Time And Life 1/1/2004
208. Prelude - Tristan And Isolde 1/1/2004
209. Four Songs Of Four Seasons 12/31/2002
210. A Flower-Piece By Fantin 1/1/2004
211. Birth And Death 1/1/2004
212. A Ballad Of Burdens 12/31/2002
213. Hymn To Proserpine (After The Proclamation Of The Christian 1/1/2004
214. A Dead Friend 1/1/2004
215. Love Lies Bleeding 1/1/2004
216. Love And Sleep 12/31/2002
217. A Child's Laughter 12/31/2002
218. A Leave-Taking 12/31/2002
219. A Baby's Death 1/1/2004
220. The Garden Of Prosperine 1/3/2003
221. A Match 1/3/2003
222. A Forsaken Garden 12/31/2002
223. A Ballad Of Death 1/3/2003
224. A Ballad Of Dreamland 1/3/2003

Comments about Algernon Charles Swinburne

  • Jamie Mitchell (1/11/2018 11:56:00 AM)

    Didn't Swinburne write a poem about Oacar Wilde? This collection seems incomplete.

    2 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • 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.

  • 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

Babyhood

A baby shines as bright
If winter or if May be
On eyes that keep in sight
A baby.

Though dark the skies or grey be,
It fills our eyes with light,
If midnight or midday be.

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