The Poems of Algernon Charles Swinburne in Six Volumes Volumes V. Studies in Song a Century of Roundels Sonnets on English Dramatic Poets the Heptalogia Etc. (Paperback)

This historic book may have numerous typos, missing text, images, or index. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. 1904. Not illustrated. Excerpt: ... When the heart of our gladness is gone, What comfort is left with us after? When the light of our eyes is away, What glory remains upon May, What blessing of song is thereon If we drink not the light of his laughter? No small sweet face with the daytime To welcome, warmer than noon No sweet small voice as a bird's To bring us the day's first words Mid May for us here is not Maytime: No summer begins with June. A whole dead month in the dark, A dawn in the mists that o'ercome her Stifled and smothered and sad-- Swift speed to it, barren and bad And return to us, voice of the lark, And remain with us, sunlight of summer II 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. Birds, and blossoms, and sunlight only, As though such folly sufficed for spring As though the house were not lonely For want of the child its king III Asleep and afar to-night my darling Lies, and heeds not the night, If winds be stirring or storms be snarling; For his sleep is its own sweet light. I sit where he sat beside me quaffing The wine of story and song Poured forth of immortal cups, and laughing When mirth in the draught grew strong. I broke the gold of the words, to melt it For hands but seven years old, And they caught the tale as a bird, and felt it . More bright than visible gold. And he drank down deep, with his eyes broad beaming, Here in this room where I am, The ...