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Poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne


To William Bell Scott


THE LARKS are loud above our leagues of whin
Now the suns perfume fills their glorious gold
With odour like the colour: all the wold
Is only light and song and wind wherein
These twain are blent in one with shining din.
And now your gift, a givers kingly-souled,
Dear old fast friend whose honours grow not old,
Bids memorys note as loud and sweet begin.
Though all but we from life be now gone forth
Of that bright household in our joyous north
Where I, scarce clear of boyhood just at end,
First met your hand; yet under lifes clear dome,
Now seventy strenuous years have crowned my friend,
Shines no less bright his full-sheaved harvest-home. 



Algernon Charles Swinburne


Algernon Charles Swinburne's other poems:
  1. Hendecasyllabics
  2. Ave Atque Vale
  3. Dickens
  4. On the Russian Persecution of the Jews
  5. Sonnet for a Picture


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