Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837 - 1909)

Swinburne attended Eton and then Balliol College, Oxford, where he met William Morris, Edward Burne-Jones and Gabriel Rossetti. He left Oxford without a degree and travelled on the Continent for a while, an allowance from his father enabling him to pursue his interests without the necessity of earning a living.

His first book, The Queen Mother; Rosamund (1860) went unnoticed, but he scored a considerable success five years later with Atalanta in Calydon. Both Tennyson and Browning wrote to express their admiration for this play, which displays the rhythmic inventiveness and energy characteristic of Swinburne's best work. This triumph was eclipsed the following year by the first book of his Poems and Ballads series, which met with outrage and admiration in about equal proportions. The poems' emphasis on masochism and flagellation can be traced back to the poet's experiences at Eton, and the response from many Victorian reviewers was predictable. His rejection of Christianity also incensed his critics and delighted many of his young admirers, who included Thomas Hardy.

Swinburne's lifestyle was as energetic and extravagant as his poetry, and his excesses led to a serious breakdown in 1879. He was placed in the care of his friend Theodore Watts-Duncan, who persuaded him to moderate his habits. Swinburne's health improved and he became a more respectable figure. He was still writing prolifically, but his late poetry shows evidence of a talent in decline.

The poems are by default sorted according to volume, but you can also choose to sort them alphabetically or by page views.

First Line	Comments
A baby shines as bright	1 Comment
A Baby's feet, like sea-shells pink,
A baby's hands, like rosebuds furled
A little soul scarce fledged for earth
A roundel is wrought as a ring or a starbright sphere,
Abreast and ahead of the sea is a crag's front cloven asunder
Alas my brother! the cry of the mourners of old
ALL the bells of heaven may ring,
Am I not he that hath made thee and begotten thee,
An hour ere sudden sunset fired the west,
Art thou indeed among these,
Ask nothing more of me, sweet;
At the chill high tide of the night,
At the time when the stars are grey,	1 Comment
Back to the flower-town, side by side,
Because there is but one truth;
Beneath the shadow of dawn's aërial cope,
Between the green bud and the red
Between the wave-ridge and the strand
Birth and death, twin-sister and twin-brother,
Blessed was she that bare,
Blest in death and life beyond man's guessing
Broad-based, broad-fronted, bounteous, multiform,
But now life's face beholden
By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept,
Chief in thy generation born of men,
Child of two strong nations, heir
CHILD, when they say that others
CHORUS
Crowned, girdled, garbed and shod with light and fire,
Dead love, by treason slain, lies stark,
Death and birth should dwell not near together:
Death, from thy rigour a voice appealed,
Deep desire, that pierces heart and spirit to the root,
eipate toi basilei, xamai pese daidalos aula.
Eros, from rest in isles far-famed,
Far beyond the sunrise and the sunset rises
Far-fetched and dear-bought, as the proverb rehearses,
Fate, out of the deep sea's gloom,
Fire and wild light of hope and doubt and fear,
Fire out of heaven, a flower of perfect fire,
Fly, white butterflies, out to sea,
Forth from Calais, at dawn of night, when sunset summer on autumn shone,
from Atalanta in Calydon
From the depth of the dreamy decline of the dawn through a notable nimbus of nebulous noonshine,
From the depths of the green garden-closes
Greene, garlanded with February's few flowers
Had I wist, when life was like a warm wind playing
He held no dream worth waking; so he said,
Heart's ease or pansy, pleasure or thought,
HER mouth is fragrant as a vine,
Here, down between the dusty trees,
Here, where the world is quiet;
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I
I
I -- In Church
I AM that which began;
I hid my heart in a nest of roses,
I.
I.
I.
I.
I.
I.
I. WINTER IN NORTHUMBERLAND
I.--VENTIMIGLIA
I1.
If love were what the rose is,	3 Comments
IN a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland,
In a vision Liberty stood
In the grey beginning of years, in the twilight of things that began,
In the outer world that was before this earth,
Inside this northern summer's fold
Is it so, that the sword is broken,
Is thine hour come to wake, O slumbering Night?
It does not hurt. She looked along the knife
JANUARY
Kneel down, fair Love, and fill thyself with tears,
Let us go hence, my songs; she will not hear.
Let us go hence, my songs; she will not hear.
Light love in a mist, by the midsummer moon misguided,
Love lies bleeding in the bed whereover
Love, out of the depth of things,
Love's twilight wanes in heaven above,
Low lies the mere beneath the moorside, still
Lying asleep between the strokes of night	1 Comment
Mad March, with the wind in his wings wide-spread,
Maiden most beautiful, mother most bountiful, lady of lands,
Mother of man's time-travelling generations,
Mourning on earth, as when dark hours descend,
My brother, my Valerius, dearest head
Not if men's tongues and angels' all in one	1 Comment
O heart of hearts, the chalice of love's fire,
One of twain, twin-born with flowers that waken,
One, who is not, we see; but one, whom we see not, is;
Orpheus, the night is full of tears and cries,
PART I
Put in the sickles and reap;
Reconciled by death's mild hand, that giving
Sark, fairer than aught in the world that the lit skies cover,
Send but a song oversea for us,
Send the stars light, but send not love to me.
SHALL I strew on thee rose or rue or laurel,
Sleep, when a soul that her own clouds cover
SOFT, small, and sweet as sunniest flowers
Somno mollior unda
Songs light as these may sound, though deep and strong
SORROW, on wing through the world for ever,
Soul within sense, immeasurable, obscure,
STATELY, kindly, lordly friend,
STR. 1
Strong as death, and cruel as the grave,
Swallow, my sister, O sister swallow,
Take, since you bade it should bear,
The burden of fair women. Vain delight,
The heavenly bay, ringed round with cliffs and moors,
The trumpets of the four winds of the world
The wind's way in the deep sky's hollow
There is no woman living who draws breath
Three months bade wane and wax the wintering moon
Three times thrice hath winter's rough white wing
Two souls diverse out of our human sight
Unreconciled by life's fleet years, that fled
Vicisti, Galilæe
WAS it light that spake from the darkness,
Watchman, what of the night? -
We mix from many lands,
What shall be done for sorrow
Who is this that sits by the way, by the wild wayside,
Who is your lady of love, O ye that pass
Wind and sea and cloud and cloud-forsaking
'Farewell and adieu' was the burden prevailing
'Not a child: I call myself a boy,'