Algernon Charles Swinburne

(5 April 1837 - 10 April 1909 / London)

Algernon Charles Swinburne Poems

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

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

The Way Of The Wind

The wind's way in the deep sky's hollow
None may measure, as none can say
How the heart in her shows the swallow
The wind's way.

Hope nor fear can avail to stay
Waves that whiten on wrecks that wallow,
Times and seasons that wane and slay.

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