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| Search results for: p | Found 8786 Poems |
| 4611. | The Complaint of Lisa by Algernon Charles Swinburne | | There is no woman living who draws breath
So sad as I, though all things sadden her.
There is not one upon life's weariest way
Who is weary as I... |
| 4612. | Perinde AC Cadaver by Algernon Charles Swinburne | | In a vision Liberty stood
By the childless charm-stricken bed
Where, barren of glory and good,
Knowing nought if she would not or would,
England s... |
| 4613. | Prelude - Lohengrin by Algernon Charles Swinburne | | Love, out of the depth of things,
As a dewfall felt from above,
From the heaven whence only springs
Love,
Love, heard from the heights thereof,
... |
| 4614. | Epilogue by Algernon Charles Swinburne | | Between the wave-ridge and the strand
I let you forth in sight of land,
Songs that with storm-crossed wings and eyes
Strain eastward till the darkn... |
| 4615. | Christmas Antiphones by Algernon Charles Swinburne | | I -- In Church
Thou whose birth on earth
Angels sang to men,
While thy stars made mirth,
Saviour, at thy birth,
This day born again;
As this... |
| 4616. | Marzo Pazzo by Algernon Charles Swinburne | | Mad March, with the wind in his wings wide-spread,
Leaps from heaven, and the deep dawn's arch
Hails re-risen again from the dead
Mad March.
Sof... |
| 4617. | Plus Ultra by Algernon Charles Swinburne | | Far beyond the sunrise and the sunset rises
Heaven, with worlds on worlds that lighten and respond:
Thought can see not thence the goal of hope's su... |
| 4618. | Nephelidia by Algernon Charles Swinburne | | From the depth of the dreamy decline of the dawn through a notable nimbus of nebulous noonshine,
Pallid and pink as the palm of the flag-flower that ... |
| 4619. | Plus Intra by Algernon Charles Swinburne | | Soul within sense, immeasurable, obscure,
Insepulchred and deathless, through the dense
Deep elements may scarce be felt as pure
Soul within sense.... |
| 4620. | A Landscape By Courbet by Algernon Charles Swinburne | | Low lies the mere beneath the moorside, still
And glad of silence: down the wood sweeps clear
To the utmost verge where fed with many a rill
Low li... |
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