Algernon Charles Swinburne

(5 April 1837 - 10 April 1909 / London)

Algernon Charles Swinburne Poems

161. Rococo 4/12/2010
162. A Cameo 4/12/2010
163. Non Dolet 1/1/2004
164. The Last Oracle 1/3/2003
165. Comparisons 12/31/2002
166. Sapphics 4/12/2010
167. Death And Birth 1/1/2004
168. Eurydice - To Victor Hugo 1/1/2004
169. A Landscape By Courbet 1/1/2004
170. The Leper 4/12/2010
171. An Interlude 4/12/2010
172. A Year's Carols 12/31/2002
173. Mourning 1/1/2004
174. Autumn And Winter 1/1/2004
175. Aperotos Eros 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 Complaint Of Lisa 1/3/2003
180. The Way Of The Wind 1/1/2004
181. A Swimmer's Dream 1/3/2003
182. Blessed Among Women --To The Signora Cairoli 1/1/2004
183. Itylus 1/3/2003
184. Hymn Of Man 1/1/2004
185. Hertha 1/4/2003
186. Tenebrae 1/1/2004
187. Cleopatra 12/31/2002
188. The Triumph Of Time 4/12/2010
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. Etude Realiste 1/1/2004
195. To A Cat 12/31/2002
196. A Ballad Of François Villon, Prince Of All Ballad-Makers 4/12/2010
197. The Year Of The Rose 1/3/2003
198. Dead Love 1/1/2004
199. Sorrow 12/31/2002
200. Wasted Love 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.

  • 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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