Algernon Charles Swinburne,
Songs of the Springtides — On the Cliffs
(1880)
“ Are all borne down death's cold sweet soundless wind That blows all night and knows not whom its breath, Darkling, may touch to death: But one that wind hath touched and changed not,—one Whose body and soul are parcel of the sun; One that earth's fire could burn not, nor the sea Quench; nor might human doom take hold on thee; All praise, all pity, all dreams have done thee wrong, All love, with eyes love-blinded from above; Song's priestess, mad with joy and pain of love, Love's priestess, mad with pain and joy of song. ”
