1 min read
Слушать(AI)Sorrow
OW, on wing through the world for ever,
Here and there for awhile would
Rest, if rest might haply deliver Sorrow.
One thought lies close in her heart gnawn
With pain, a weed in a dried-up river,
A rust-red share in an empty furrow.
Hearts that strain at her chain would
The link where yesterday frets to-morrow:
All things pass in the world, but never Sorrow.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne (5 April 1837 – 10 April 1909) was an English poet, playwright, novelist, and critic. He wrote several novels and col
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
Messidor
Put in the sickles and reap; For the morning of harvest is red, And the long large ranks of the corn Coloured and clothed as the Stand thick in the fields and deep For them that faint to be fed Let all that hunger and weep Come hither, a...
The Higher Pantheism in a Nutshell
One, who is not, we see: but one, whom we see not, is: Surely this is not that: but that is assuredly this What, and wherefore, and whence for under is over and under: If thunder could be without lightning, lightning could be without thu...
Wasted Love
What shall be done for sorrow With love whose race is run Where help is none to borrow, What shall be done In vain his hands have spun The web, or drawn the furrow: No rest their toil hath won
Ode On The Insurrection In Candia
TR 1 I laid my laurel-leaf At the white feet of grief, Seeing how with covered face and plumeless wings, With unreverted head Veiled, as who mourns his dead, Lay Freedom couched between the thrones of kings, A wearied lion without lair, ...