Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
Algernon Swinburne (1837 - 1909)
Contributed by: Zaady
Ah that such sweet things should be fleet, Such fleet things sweet!
A blatant Bassarid of Boston, a rampant Maenad of Massachusetts.
Source: Under the Microscope.
Ah, yet would God this flesh of mine might be Where air might wash and long leaves cover me; Where tides of grass break into foam of flowers, Or where the wind's feet shine along the sea.
Source: Laus Veneris.
And lo, between the sundawn and the sun His day's work and his night's work are undone: And lo, between the nightfall and the light, He is not, and none knoweth of such an one.
And the best and the worst of this is That neither is most to blame, If you have forgotten my kisses And I have forgotten your name.
Source: An Interlude.
To wipe off the froth of falsehood from the foaming lips of inebriated virtue, when fresh from the sexless orgies of morality and reeling from the delirious riot of religion, may doubtless be a charitable office.
When the hounds of Spring are on winter's traces, The mother of months in meadow or plain Fills the shadows and windy places With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain.
A baby's feet, like sea-shells pink Might tempt, should heaven see meet, An angel's lips to kiss, we think, A baby's feet.
Source: Etude réalistique.
There grows No herb of help to heal a coward heart.
Source: Bothwell.Act ii. Sc. .
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