Algernon Charles Swinburne

(5 April 1837 - 10 April 1909 / London)

Algernon Charles Swinburne Poems

121. Super Flumina Babylonis 1/1/2004
122. Armand Barbes 1/1/2004
123. Hendecasyllabics 4/12/2010
124. Quia Multum Amavit 1/1/2004
125. A Singing Lesson 1/1/2004
126. Before Dawn 4/12/2010
127. A Song In Time Of Order. 1852 4/12/2010
128. Recollections 1/1/2004
129. To Catullus 1/1/2004
130. The Eve Of Revolution 1/1/2004
131. Three Faces 1/1/2004
132. A Child's Battles 4/12/2010
133. Stage Love 4/12/2010
134. Had I Wist 1/1/2004
135. Not A Child 1/1/2004
136. A Dialogue 12/31/2002
137. Epilogue 1/1/2004
138. A Dialog 1/1/2004
139. A Lamentation 4/12/2010
140. A Litany 4/12/2010
141. The Lute And The Lyre 1/1/2004
142. A Channel Crossing 1/1/2004
143. Before A Crucifix 1/1/2004
144. Sleep 1/1/2004
145. The Oblation 1/1/2004
146. A Watch In The Night 1/3/2003
147. Anima Anceps 4/12/2010
148. Genesis 1/1/2004
149. In Harbour 1/1/2004
150. Cor Cordium 1/3/2003
151. Swan Song 4/12/2010
152. Ave Atque Vale (In Memory Of Charles Baudelaire) 1/4/2003
153. To Walt Whitman In America 1/1/2004
154. Mater Triumphalis 1/1/2004
155. Eros 1/1/2004
156. A Christmas Carol 4/12/2010
157. A Jacobite's Exile 4/12/2010
158. Before The Mirror 4/12/2010
159. Past Days 1/1/2004
160. Sestina 4/12/2010

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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