Algernon Charles Swinburne Poems

THERE WERE four apples on the bough,
Half gold half red, that one might know
The blood was ripe inside the core;
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IF childhood were not in the world,
But only men and women grown;
No baby-locks in tendrils curled,
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Because there is but one truth;
Because there is but one banner;
Because there is but one light;
Because we have with us our youth
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FRIEND of the dead, and friend of all my days
Even since they cast off boyhood, I salute
The song saluting friends whose songs are mute
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CHIEF in thy generation born of men
Whom English praise acclaimed as English-born,
With eyes that matched the worldwide eyes of morn
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NOT for less love, all glorious France, to thee,
‘Sweet enemy’ called in days long since at end.
Now found and hailed of England sweeter friend,
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Unreconciled by life's fleet years, that fled
With changeful clang of pinions wide and wild,
Though two great spirits had lived, and hence had sped
Unreconciled;
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THERE is an end of joy and sorrow;
Peace all day long, all night, all morrow,
But never a time to laugh or weep.
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LAST high star of the years whose thunder
Still men’s listening remembrance hears,
Last light left of our fathers’ years,
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I
Ere frost-flower and snow-blossom faded and fell, and the splendour of winter had passed out of sight,
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