Algernon Charles Swinburne,
A Dark Month
“ As the passage of numberless ages in slumberless song. Dawn, roused by the lark, would be surely as dark in her sight As her measureless measure of shadowless pleasure was bright. Noon, gilt but with glory of gold, would be hoary and grey In her eyes that had gazed on the depths, unamazed with the day. Night hardly would seem to make darker her dream never done, When it could but withhold what a man may behold of the sun. ”
Algernon Charles Swinburne,
A Dark Month
“ It is not in laughter These rhymes of you end. 342 XIV Spring, and fall, and summer, and winter, Which may Earth love least of them all, Whose arms embrace as their signs imprint her, Summer, or winter, or spring, or fall? The clear-eyed spring with the wood-birds mating, The rose-red summer with eyes aglow, The yellow fall with serene eyes waiting, The wild-eyed winter with hair all snow? Spring's eyes are soft, but if frosts benumb her As winter's own will her shrewd breath sting: Storms may rend the raiment of summer, And fall grow bitter as harsh-lipped spring. ”
Algernon Charles Swinburne,
A Dark Month
“ Alas, what right has the dawn to glimmer, What right has the wind to do aught but moan? All the day should be dimmer Because we are left alone. Yestermorn like a sunbeam present Hither and thither a light step smiled, And made each place for us pleasant With the sense or the sight of a child. But the leaves persist as before, and after Our parting the dull day still bears flowers; And songs less bright than his laughter Deride us from birds in the bowers. ”
