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.
His task is all gone thorough,
And fruit thereof is none:
And who dare say to-morrow
What shall be done?
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Prelude - Lohengrin
Love, out of the depth of things,
As a dewfall felt from above,
From the heaven whence only springs
Love,
Love, heard from the heights thereof,
The clouds and the watersprings,
Draws close as the clouds remove.
And the soul in it speaks and sings,
A swan sweet-souled as a dove,
An echo that only rings
Love.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Change
But now life's face beholden
Seemed bright as heaven's bare brow
With hope of gifts withholden
But now.
From time's full-flowering bough
Each bud spake bloom to embolden
Love's heart, and seal his vow.
Joy's eyes grew deep with olden
Dreams, born he wist not how;
Thought's meanest garb was golden;
But now!
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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To Dora Dorian
Child of two strong nations, heir
Born of high-souled hope that smiled,
Seeing for each brought forth a fair
Child,
By thy gracious brows, and wild
Golden-clouded heaven of hair,
By thine eyes elate and mild,
Hope would fain take heart to swear
Men should yet be reconciled,
Seeing the sign she bids thee bear,
Child.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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First Footsteps
A little way, more soft and sweet
Than fields aflower with May,
A babe's feet, venturing, scarce complete
A little way.
Eyes full of dawning day
Look up for mother's eyes to meet,
Too blithe for song to say.
Glad as the golden spring to greet
Its first live leaflet's play,
Love, laughing, leads the little feet
A little way.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Prelude - Tristan And Isolde
Fate, out of the deep sea's gloom,
When a man's heart's pride grows great,
And nought seems now to foredoom
Fate,
Fate, laden with fears in wait,
Draws close through the clouds that loom,
Till the soul see, all too late,
More dark than a dead world's tomb,
More high than the sheer dawn's gate,
More deep than the wide sea's womb,
Fate.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Envoi
Fly, white butterflies, out to sea,
Frail pale wings for the winds to try,
Small white wings that we scarce can see
Fly.
Here and there may a chance-caught eye
Note in a score of you twain or three
Brighter or darker of tinge or dye.
Some fly light as a laugh of glee,
Some fly soft as a low long sigh:
All to the haven where each would be
Fly.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Before Sunset
Love's twilight wanes in heaven above,
On earth ere twilight reigns:
Ere fear may feel the chill thereof,
Love's twilight wanes.
Ere yet the insatiate heart complains
'Too much, and scarce enough,'
The lip so late athirst refrains.
Soft on the neck of either dove
Love's hands let slip the reins:
And while we look for light of love
Love's twilight wanes.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Sleep
Sleep, when a soul that her own clouds cover
Wails that sorrow should always keep
Watch, nor see in the gloom above her
Sleep,
Down, through darkness naked and steep,
Sinks, and the gifts of his grace recover
Soon the soul, though her wound be deep.
God beloved of us, all men's lover,
All most weary that smile or weep
Feel thee afar or anear them hover,
Sleep.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Dead Love
Dead love, by treason slain, lies stark,
White as a dead stark-stricken dove:
None that pass by him pause to mark
Dead love.
His heart, that strained and yearned and strove
As toward the sundawn strives the lark,
Is cold as all the old joy thereof.
Dead men, re-risen from dust, may hark
When rings the trumpet blown above:
It will not raise from out the dark
Dead love.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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