Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series)

Home > Other > Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series) > Page 121
Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series) Page 121

by Algernon Charles Swinburne


  Death and birth.

  Harsh the yoke that binds them, strange the girth

  Seems that girds them each with each: yet whether

  Death be best, who knows, or life on earth?

  Ill the rose-red and the sable feather

  Blend in one crown’s plume, as grief with mirth:

  Ill met still are warm and wintry weather,

  Death and birth.

  BIRTH AND DEATH

  Birth and death, twin-sister and twin-brother,

  Night and day, on all things that draw breath,

  Reign, while time keeps friends with one another

  Birth and death.

  Each brow-bound with flowers diverse of wreath,

  Heaven they hail as father, earth as mother,

  Faithful found above them and beneath.

  Smiles may lighten tears, and tears may smother

  Smiles, for all that joy or sorrow saith:

  Joy nor sorrow knows not from each other

  Birth and death.

  BENEDICTION

  Blest in death and life beyond man’s guessing

  Little children live and die, possest

  Still of grace that keeps them past expressing

  Blest.

  Each least chirp that rings from every nest,

  Each least touch of flower-soft fingers pressing

  Aught that yearns and trembles to be prest,

  Each least glance, gives gifts of grace, redressing

  Grief’s worst wrongs: each mother’s nurturing breast

  Feeds a flower of bliss, beyond all blessing

  Blest.

  ETUDE REALISTE

  I.

  A Baby’s feet, like sea-shells pink,

  Might tempt, should heaven see meet,

  An angel’s lips to kiss, we think,

  A baby’s feet.

  Like rose-hued sea-flowers toward the heat

  They stretch and spread and wink

  Their ten soft buds that part and meet.

  No flower-bells that expand and shrink

  Gleam half so heavenly sweet

  As shine on life’s untrodden brink

  A baby’s feet.

  II.

  A baby’s hands, like rosebuds furled

  Whence yet no leaf expands,

  Ope if you touch, though close upcurled,

  A baby’s hands.

  Then, fast as warriors grip their brands

  When battle’s bolt is hurled,

  They close, clenched hard like tightening bands.

  No rosebuds yet by dawn impearled

  Match, even in loveliest lands,

  The sweetest flowers in all the world -

  A baby’s hands.

  III.

  A baby’s eyes, ere speech begin,

  Ere lips learn words or sighs,

  Bless all things bright enough to win

  A baby’s eyes.

  Love, while the sweet thing laughs and lies,

  And sleep flows out and in,

  Sees perfect in them Paradise.

  Their glance might cast out pain and sin,

  Their speech make dumb the wise,

  By mute glad godhead felt within

  A baby’s eyes.

  BABYHOOD

  I.

  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.

  Love hails it, day and night,

  The sweetest thing that may be

  Yet cannot praise aright

  A baby.

  II.

  All heaven, in every baby born,

  All absolute of earthly leaven,

  Reveals itself, though man may scorn

  All heaven.

  Yet man might feel all sin forgiven,

  All grief appeased, all pain outworn,

  By this one revelation given.

  Soul, now forget thy burdens borne:

  Heart, be thy joys now seven times seven:

  Love shows in light more bright than morn

  All heaven.

  III.

  What likeness may define, and stray not

  From truth’s exactest way,

  A baby’s beauty? Love can say not

  What likeness may.

  The Mayflower loveliest held in May

  Of all that shine and stay not

  Laughs not in rosier disarray.

  Sleek satin, swansdown, buds that play not

  As yet with winds that play,

  Would fain be matched with this, and may not:

  What likeness may?

  IV.

  Rose, round whose bed

  Dawn’s cloudlets close,

  Earth’s brightest-bred

  Rose!

  No song, love knows,

  May praise the head

  Your curtain shows.

  Ere sleep has fled,

  The whole child glows

  One sweet live red

  Rose.

  FIRST FOOTSTEPS

  A little way, more soft and sweet

  Than fields aflower with May,

  A babe’s feet, venturing, scarce complete

  A little way.

  Eyes full of dawning day

  Look up for mother’s eyes to meet,

  Too blithe for song to say.

  Glad as the golden spring to greet

  Its first live leaflet’s play,

  Love, laughing, leads the little feet

  A little way.

  A NINTH BIRTHDAY FEBRUARY 4, 1883

  I.

  Three times thrice hath winter’s rough white wing

  Crossed and curdled wells and streams with ice

  Since his birth whose praises love would sing

  Three times thrice.

  Earth nor sea bears flower nor pearl of price

  Fit to crown the forehead of my king,

  Honey meet to please him, balm, nor spice.

  Love can think of nought but love to bring

  Fit to serve or do him sacrifice

  Ere his eyes have looked upon the spring

  Three times thrice.

  II.

  Three times thrice the world has fallen on slumber,

  Shone and waned and withered in a trice,

  Frost has fettered Thames and Tyne and Humber

  Three times thrice,

  Fogs have swoln too thick for steel to slice,

  Cloud and mud have soiled with grime and umber

  Earth and heaven, defaced as souls with vice,

  Winds have risen to wreck, snows fallen to cumber,

  Ships and chariots, trapped like rats or mice,

  Since my king first smiled, whose years now number

  Three times thrice.

  III.

  Three times thrice, in wine of song full-flowing,

  Pledge, my heart, the child whose eyes suffice,

  Once beheld, to set thy joy-bells going

  Three times thrice.

  Not the lands of palm and date and rice

  Glow more bright when summer leaves them glowing,

  Laugh more light when suns and winds entice.

  Noon and eve and midnight and cock-crowing,

  Child whose love makes life as paradise,

  Love should sound your praise with clarions blowing

  Three times thrice.

  NOT A CHILD

  I.

  ‘Not a child: I call myself a boy,’

  Says my king, with accent stern yet mild,

  Now nine years have brought him change of joy;

  ’Not a child.’

  How could reason be so far beguiled,

  Err so far from sense’s safe employ,

  Stray so wide of truth, or run so wild?

  Seeing his face bent over book or toy,

  Child I called hi
m, smiling: but he smiled

  Back, as one too high for vain annoy -

  Not a child.

  II.

  Not a child? alack the year!

  What should ail an undefiled

  Heart, that he would fain appear

  Not a child?

  Men, with years and memories piled

  Each on other, far and near,

  Fain again would so be styled:

  Fain would cast off hope and fear,

  Rest, forget, be reconciled:

  Why would you so fain be, dear,

  Not a child?

  III.

  Child or boy, my darling, which you will,

  Still your praise finds heart and song employ,

  Heart and song both yearning toward you still,

  Child or boy.

  All joys else might sooner pall or cloy

  Love than this which inly takes its fill,

  Dear, of sight of your more perfect joy.

  Nay, be aught you please, let all fulfil

  All your pleasure; be your world your toy:

  Mild or wild we love you, loud or still,

  Child or boy.

  TO DORA DORIAN

  Child of two strong nations, heir

  Born of high-souled hope that smiled,

  Seeing for each brought forth a fair

  Child,

  By thy gracious brows, and wild

  Golden-clouded heaven of hair,

  By thine eyes elate and mild,

  Hope would fain take heart to swear

  Men should yet be reconciled,

  Seeing the sign she bids thee bear,

  Child.

  THE ROUNDEL

  A roundel is wrought as a ring or a starbright sphere,

  With craft of delight and with cunning of sound unsought,

  That the heart of the hearer may smile if to pleasure his ear

  A roundel is wrought.

  Its jewel of music is carven of all or of aught -

  Love, laughter, or mourning — remembrance of rapture or fear -

  That fancy may fashion to hang in the ear of thought.

  As a bird’s quick song runs round, and the hearts in us hear

  Pause answer to pause, and again the same strain caught,

  So moves the device whence, round as a pearl or tear,

  A roundel is wrought.

  AT SEA

  ‘Farewell and adieu’ was the burden prevailing

  Long since in the chant of a home-faring crew;

  And the heart in us echoes, with laughing or wailing,

  Farewell and adieu.

  Each year that we live shall we sing it anew,

  With a water untravelled before us for sailing

  And a water behind us that wrecks may bestrew.

  The stars of the past and the beacons are paling,

  The heavens and the waters are hoarier of hue:

  But the heart in us chants not an all unavailing

  Farewell and adieu.

  WASTED LOVE

  What shall be done for sorrow

  With love whose race is run?

  Where help is none to borrow,

  What shall be done?

  In vain his hands have spun

  The web, or drawn the furrow:

  No rest their toil hath won.

  His task is all gone thorough,

  And fruit thereof is none:

  And who dare say to-morrow

  What shall be done?

  BEFORE SUNSET

  Love’s twilight wanes in heaven above,

  On earth ere twilight reigns:

  Ere fear may feel the chill thereof,

  Love’s twilight wanes.

  Ere yet the insatiate heart complains

  ’Too much, and scarce enough,’

  The lip so late athirst refrains.

  Soft on the neck of either dove

  Love’s hands let slip the reins:

  And while we look for light of love

  Love’s twilight wanes.

  A SINGING LESSON

  Far-fetched and dear-bought, as the proverb rehearses,

  Is good, or was held so, for ladies: but nought

  In a song can be good if the turn of the verse is

  Far-fetched and dear-bought.

  As the turn of a wave should it sound, and the thought

  Ring smooth, and as light as the spray that disperses

  Be the gleam of the words for the garb thereof wrought.

  Let the soul in it shine through the sound as it pierces

  Men’s hearts with possession of music unsought;

  For the bounties of song are no jealous god’s mercies,

  Far-fetched and dear-bought.

  FLOWER-PIECES

  I. — LOVE LIES BLEEDING

  Love lies bleeding in the bed whereover

  Roses lean with smiling mouths or pleading:

  Earth lies laughing where the sun’s dart clove her:

  Love lies bleeding.

  Stately shine his purple plumes, exceeding

  Pride of princes: nor shall maid or lover

  Find on earth a fairer sign worth heeding.

  Yet may love, sore wounded scarce recover

  Strength and spirit again, with life receding:

  Hope and joy, wind-winged, about him hover:

  Love lies bleeding.

  II. — LOVE IN A MIST

  Light love in a mist, by the midsummer moon misguided,

  Scarce seen in the twilight garden if gloom insist,

  Seems vainly to seek for a star whose gleam has derided

  Light love in a mist.

  All day in the sun, when the breezes do all they list,

  His soft blue raiment of cloudlike blossom abided

  Unrent and unwithered of winds and of rays that kissed.

  Blithe-hearted or sad, as the cloud or the sun subsided,

  Love smiled in the flower with a meaning whereof none wist

  Save two that beheld, as a gleam that before them glided,

  Light love in a mist.

  THREE FACES

  I. — VENTIMIGLIA

  The sky and sea glared hard and bright and blank:

  Down the one steep street, with slow steps firm and free,

  A tall girl paced, with eyes too proud to thank

  The sky and sea.

  One dead flat sapphire, void of wrath or glee,

  Through bay on bay shone blind from bank to bank

  The weary Mediterranean, drear to see.

  More deep, more living, shone her eyes that drank

  The breathless light and shed again on me,

  Till pale before their splendour waned and shrank

  The sky and sea.

  II. — GENOA

  Again the same strange might of eyes, that saw

  In heaven and earth nought fairer, overcame

  My sight with rapture of reiterate awe,

  Again the same.

  The self-same pulse of wonder shook like flame

  The spirit of sense within me: what strange law

  Had bid this be, for blessing or for blame?

  To what veiled end that fate or chance foresaw

  Came forth this second sister face, that came

  Absolute, perfect, fair without a flaw,

  Again the same?

  III. — VENICE

  Out of the dark pure twilight, where the stream

  Flows glimmering, streaked by many a birdlike bark

  That skims the gloom whence towers and bridges gleam

  Out of the dark,

  Once more a face no glance might choose but mark

  Shone pale and bright, with eyes whose deep slow beam

  Made quick the twilight, lifeless else and stark.

  The same it seemed, or mystery made it seem,

  As those before beholden; but St. Mark

  Ruled here the ways that showed it like a dream

  Out of the dark.

  EROS
<
br />   I.

  Eros, from rest in isles far-famed,

  With rising Anthesterion rose,

  And all Hellenic heights acclaimed

  Eros.

  The sea one pearl, the shore one rose,

  All round him all the flower-month flamed

  And lightened, laughing off repose.

  Earth’s heart, sublime and unashamed,

  Knew, even perchance as man’s heart knows,

  The thirst of all men’s nature named

  Eros.

  II.

  Eros, a fire of heart untamed,

  A light of spirit in sense that glows,

  Flamed heavenward still ere earth defamed

  Eros.

  Nor fear nor shame durst curb or close

  His golden godhead, marred and maimed,

  Fast round with bonds that burnt and froze.

  Ere evil faith struck blind and lamed

  Love, pure as fire or flowers or snows,

  Earth hailed as blameless and unblamed

  Eros.

 

‹ Prev