Algernon Charles Swinburne

(5 April 1837 - 10 April 1909 / London)

Algernon Charles Swinburne Poems

161. Non Dolet 1/1/2004
162. The Last Oracle 1/3/2003
163. Comparisons 12/31/2002
164. Sapphics 4/12/2010
165. Death And Birth 1/1/2004
166. Eurydice - To Victor Hugo 1/1/2004
167. A Landscape By Courbet 1/1/2004
168. A Swimmer's Dream 1/3/2003
169. Tenebrae 1/1/2004
170. An Interlude 4/12/2010
171. The Triumph Of Time 4/12/2010
172. Mourning 1/1/2004
173. Autumn And Winter 1/1/2004
174. Aperotos Eros 1/1/2004
175. Genesis 1/1/2004
176. Chorus From 'Atalanta' 1/4/2003
177. At Sea 1/1/2004
178. A Ninth Birthday 1/1/2004
179. The Oblation 1/1/2004
180. Hermaphroditus 4/12/2010
181. A Ballad Of François Villon, Prince Of All Ballad-Makers 4/12/2010
182. The Complaint Of Lisa 1/3/2003
183. The Way Of The Wind 1/1/2004
184. Blessed Among Women --To The Signora Cairoli 1/1/2004
185. Hymn Of Man 1/1/2004
186. Hertha 1/4/2003
187. A Year's Carols 12/31/2002
188. Cleopatra 12/31/2002
189. Love In A Mist 1/1/2004
190. Nephelidia 1/3/2003
191. Leave-Taking 1/3/2003
192. Babyhood 1/1/2004
193. Laus Veneris 4/12/2010
194. A Marching Song 1/1/2004
195. Etude Realiste 1/1/2004
196. To A Cat 12/31/2002
197. The Year Of The Rose 1/3/2003
198. Itylus 1/3/2003
199. Dead Love 1/1/2004
200. Past Days 1/1/2004

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.

    9 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.

    11 person liked.
    5 person did not like.
Best Poem of Algernon Charles Swinburne

A Ballad Of Death

Kneel down, fair Love, and fill thyself with tears,
Girdle thyself with sighing for a girth
Upon the sides of mirth,
Cover thy lips and eyelids, let thine ears
Be filled with rumour of people sorrowing;
Make thee soft raiment out of woven sighs
Upon the flesh to cleave,
Set pains therein and many a grievous thing,
And many sorrows after each his wise
For armlet and for gorget and for sleeve.

O Love's lute heard about the lands of death,
Left hanged upon the trees that were therein;
O Love and Time and Sin,
Three singing mouths that mourn now ...

Read the full of A Ballad Of Death

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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