Home ⇒ 📌Algernon Charles Swinburne ⇒ A Match
A Match
If love were what the rose is,
And I were like the leaf,
Our lives would grow together
In sad or singing weather,
Blown fields or flowerful closes,
Green pasture or gray grief;
If love were what the rose is,
And I were like the leaf.
If I were what the words are,
And love were like the tune,
With double sound and single
Delight our lips would mingle,
With kisses glad as birds are
That get sweet rain at noon;
If I were what the words are,
And love were like the tune.
If you were life, my darling,
And I your love were death,
We’d shine and snow together
Ere March made sweet the weather
With daffodil and starling
And hours of fruitful breath;
If you were life, my darling,
And I your love were death.
If you were thrall to sorrow,
And I were page to joy,
We’d play for lives and seasons
With loving looks and treasons
And tears of night and morrow
And laughs of maid and boy;
If you were thrall to sorrow,
And I were page to joy.
If you were April’s lady,
And I were lord in May,
We’d throw with leaves for hours
And draw for days with flowers,
Till day like night were shady
And night were bright like day;
If you were April’s lady,
And I were lord in May.
If you were queen of pleasure,
And I were king of pain,
We’d hunt down love together,
Pluck out his flying-feather,
And teach his feet a measure,
And find his mouth a rein;
If you were queen of pleasure,
And I were king of pain.
(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)Related poetry:
- The Virgin Mother My little love, my darling, You were a doorway to me; You let me out of the confines Into this strange countrie, Where people are crowded like thistles, Yet are shapely and comely to see. My little love, my dearest Twice have you issued me, Once from your womb, sweet mother, Once from myself, to […]...
- Wrestling Match What guts he had, the Dago lad Who fought that Frenchman grim with guile; For nigh an hour they milled like mad, And mauled the mat in rare old style. Then up and launched like catapults, And tangled, twisted, clinched and clung, Then tossed in savage somersaults, And hacked and hammered, ducked and swung; And […]...
- The Window All night long, by a distant bell, The passing hours were notched On the dark, while her breathing rose and fell, And the spark of life I watched In her face was glowing or fading, who could tell? And the open window of the room, With a flare of yellow light, Was peering out into […]...
- The Match Nature had long a Treasure made Of all her choisest store; Fearing, when She should be decay’d, To beg in vain for more. Her Orientest Colours there, And Essences most pure, With sweetest Perfumes hoarded were, All as she thought secure. She seldom them unlock’d, or us’d, But with the nicest care; For, with one […]...
- La Bella Donna Della Mia Mente My limbs are wasted with a flame, My feet are sore with travelling, For, calling on my Lady’s name, My lips have now forgot to sing. O Linnet in the wild-rose brake Strain for my Love thy melody, O Lark sing louder for love’s sake, My gentle Lady passeth by. She is too fair for […]...
- The Little Match Girl It was biting cold, and the falling snow, Which filled a poor little match girl’s heart with woe, Who was bareheaded and barefooted, as she went along the street, Crying, “Who’ll buy my matches? for I want pennies to buy some meat!” When she left home she had slippers on; But, alas! poor child, now […]...
- A Ballad of Burdens The burden of fair women. Vain delight, And love self-slain in some sweet shameful way, And sorrowful old age that comes by night As a thief comes that has no heart by day, And change that finds fair cheeks and leaves them grey, And weariness that keeps awake for hire, And grief that says what […]...
- Doc Hill I went up and down the streets Here and there by day and night, Through all hours of the night caring for the poor who were sick. Do you know why? My wife hated me, my son went to the dogs. And I turned to the people and poured out my love to them. Sweet […]...
- The Pilgrims Who is your lady of love, O ye that pass Singing? and is it for sorrow of that which was That ye sing sadly, or dream of what shall be? For gladly at once and sadly it seems ye sing. Our lady of love by you is unbeholden; For hands she hath none, nor eyes, […]...
- Exeat I remember the Roman Emperor, one of the cruellest of them, Who used to visit for pleasure his poor prisoners cramped in dungeons, So then they would beg him for death, and then he would say: Oh no, oh no, we are not yet friends enough. He meant they were not yet friends enough for […]...
- 159. Song-My Lord a-Hunting he is gane Chorus.-MY lady’s gown, there’s gairs upon’t, And gowden flowers sae rare upon’t; But Jenny’s jimps and jirkinet, My lord thinks meikle mair upon’t. My lord a-hunting he is gone, But hounds or hawks wi’ him are nane; By Colin’s cottage lies his game, If Colin’s Jenny be at hame. My lady’s gown, &c. My lady’s […]...
- The Many Greene, garlanded with February’s few flowers Ere March came in with Marlowe’s rapturous rage; Peele, from whose hand the sweet white locks of age Took the mild chaplet woven of honored hours; Nash, laughing hard; Lodge, flushed from lyric bowers; And Lilly, a goldfinch in a twisted cage Fed by some gay great lady’s pettish […]...
- The wind (THE TALE) Cometh the Wind from the garden, fragrant and full of sweet singing Under my tree where I sit cometh the Wind to confession. “Out in the garden abides the Queen of the beautiful Roses Her do I love and to-night wooed her with passionate singing; Told I my love in those songs, and […]...
- Lady Clare IT was the time when lilies blow, And clouds are highest up in air, Lord Ronald brought a lily-white doe To give his cousin, Lady Clare. I trow they did not part in scorn – Lovers long-betroth’d were they: They too will wed the morrow morn: God’s blessing on the day! ‘He does not love […]...
- Flowers I will not have the mad Clytie, Whose head is turned by the sun; The tulip is a courtly queen, Whom, therefore, I will shun; The cowslip is a country wench, The violet is a nun; – But I will woo the dainty rose, The queen of everyone. The pea is but a wanton witch, […]...
- Lady button-eyes When the busy day is done, And my weary little one Rocketh gently to and fro; When the night winds softly blow, And the crickets in the glen Chirp and chirp and chirp again; When upon the haunted green Fairies dance around their queen – Then from yonder misty skies Cometh Lady Button-Eyes. Through the […]...
- Let Me Not Forget If it is not my portion to meet thee in this life Then let me ever feel that I have missed thy sight – let me not forget for a moment, Let me carry the pangs of this sorrow in my dreams And in my wakeful hours. As my days pass in the crowded market […]...
- A Dead Friend I. Gone, O gentle heart and true, Friend of hopes foregone, Hopes and hopeful days with you Gone? Days of old that shone Saw what none shall see anew, When we gazed thereon. Soul as clear as sunlit dew, Why so soon pass on, Forth from all we loved and knew Gone? II. Friend of […]...
- Lullaby Sleep, pretty lady, the night is enfolding you; Drift, and so lightly, on crystalline streams. Wrapped in its perfumes, the darkness is holding you; Starlight bespangles the way of your dreams. Chorus the nightingales, wistfully amorous; Blessedly quiet, the blare of the day. All the sweet hours may your visions be glamorous- Sleep, pretty lady, […]...
- Little Queen Do you remember the name I wore – The old pet-name of Little Queen – In the dear, dead days that are no more, The happiest days of our lives, I ween? For we loved with that passionate love of youth That blesses but once with its perfect bliss, – A love that, in spite […]...
- The Gardener XXVIII: Your Questioning Eyes Your questioning eyes are sad. They Seek to know my meaning as the moon Would fathom the sea. I have bared my life before your Eyes from end to end, with nothing Hidden or held back. That is why you Know me not. If it were only a gem, I could break It into a […]...
- The Recall The night was dark when she went away, and the slept. The night is dark now, and I call for her, “Come back, my Darling; the world is asleep; and no one would know, if you came For a moment while stars are gazing at stars.” She went away when the trees were in bud […]...
- The Complaint of Lisa 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 am weary of all but death. Toward whom I look as looks the sunflower All day with all his whole soul toward the sun; While […]...
- To My Children Jaya Surya GOLDEN sun of victory, born In my life’s unclouded morn, In my lambent sky of love, May your growing glory prove Sacred to your consecration, To my heart and to my nation. Sun of victory, may you be Sun of song and liberty. Padmaja Lotus-maiden, you who claim All the sweetness of your […]...
- Maude Clare Out of the church she followed them With a lofty step and mien: His bride was like a village maid, Maude Clare was like a queen. “Son Thomas, ” his lady mother said, With smiles, almost with tears: “May Nell and you but live as true As we have done for years; “Your father thirty […]...
- 212. Song-Raving Winds Around her Blowing RAVING winds around her blowing, Yellow leaves the woodlands strowing, By a river hoarsely roaring, Isabella stray’d deploring- “Farewell, hours that late did measure Sunshine days of joy and pleasure; Hail, thou gloomy night of sorrow, Cheerless night that knows no morrow! “O’er the past too fondly wandering, On the hopeless future pondering; Chilly grief […]...
- Genesis In the outer world that was before this earth, That was before all shape or space was born, Before the blind first hour of time had birth, Before night knew the moonlight or the morn; Yea, before any world had any light, Or anything called God or man drew breath, Slowly the strong sides of […]...
- Song The linnet in the rocky dells, The moor – lark in the air, The bee among the heather – bells That hide my lady fair: The wild deer browse above her breast; The wild birds raise their brood; And they, her smiles of love caressed, Have left their solitude! I ween, that when the grave’s […]...
- My Lady's Grave THE linnet in the rocky dells, The moor-lark in the air, The bee among the heather bells That hide my lady fair: The wild deer browse above her breast; The wild birds raise their brood; And they, her smiles of love caress’d, Have left her solitude! I ween that when the grave’s dark wall Did […]...
- Essential Oils are wrung Essential Oils are wrung The Attar from the Rose Be not expressed by Suns alone It is the gift of Screws The General Rose decay But this in Lady’s Drawer Make Summer When the Lady lie In Ceaseless Rosemary...
- The Year of the Rose From the depths of the green garden-closes Where the summer in darkness dozes Till autumn pluck from his hand An hour-glass that holds not a sand; From the maze that a flower-belt encloses To the stones and sea-grass on the strand How red was the reign of the roses Over the rose-crowned land! The year […]...
- Ne'er Ask the Hour Ne’er ask the hour what is it to us How Time deals out his treasures? The golden moments lent us thus Are not his coin, but Pleasure’s. If counting them o’er could add to their blisses, I’d number each glorious second: But moments of joy are, like Lesbia’s kisses, Too quick and sweet to be […]...
- The Bird must sing to earn the Crumb The Bird must sing to earn the Crumb What merit have the Tune No Breakfast if it guaranty The Rose content may bloom To gain renown of Lady’s Drawer But if the Lady come But once a Century, the Rose Superfluous become...
- Hymn to Proserpine (After the Proclamation of the Christian Vicisti, Galilæe I have lived long enough, having seen one thing, that love hath an end; Goddess and maiden and queen, be near me now and befriend. Thou art more than the day or the morrow, the seasons that laugh or that weep; For these give joy and sorrow; but thou, Proserpina, sleep. Sweet is […]...
- Life “What is this world?thy school, O misery! “Our only lesson is to learn to suffer.” – YOUNG. LOVE, thou sportive fickle boy, Source of anguish, child of joy, Ever woundingever smiling, Soothing still, and still beguiling; What are all thy boasted treasures, Tender sorrows, transient pleasures? Anxious hopes, and jealous fears, LAUGHING HOURS, and MOURNING […]...
- Joy and Pleasure Now, joy is born of parents poor, And pleasure of our richer kind; Though pleasure’s free, she cannot sing As sweet a song as joy confined. Pleasure’s a Moth, that sleeps by day And dances by false glare at night; But Joy’s a Butterfly, that loves To spread its wings in Nature’s light. Joy’s like […]...
- Song V: Through the Trouble and Tangle Love is enough: through the trouble and tangle From yesterday’s dawning to yesterday’s night I sought through the vales where the prisoned winds wrangle, Till, wearied and bleeding, at end of the light I met him, and we wrestled, and great was my might. O great was my joy, though no rest was around me, […]...
- A Ballad of Death Kneel down, fair Love, and fill thyself with tears, Girdle thyself with sighing for a girth Upon the sides of mirth, Cover thy lips and eyelids, let thine ears Be filled with rumour of people sorrowing; Make thee soft raiment out of woven sighs Upon the flesh to cleave, Set pains therein and many a […]...
- When the Rose is Faded When the rose is faded, Memory may still dwell on Her beauty shadowed, And the sweet smell gone. That vanishing loveliness, That burdening breath, No bond of life hath then, Nor grief of death. ‘Tis the immortal thought Whose passion still Makes the changing The unchangeable. Oh, thus thy beauty, Loveliest on earth to me, […]...
- Spring comes on the World Spring comes on the World I sight the Aprils Hueless to me until thou come As, till the Bee Blossoms stand negative, Touched to Conditions By a Hum....