 | Poems at Home and Abroad |  |
87
Algernon Charles Swinburne
10th April, 1909.
Fold up the scroll! He goes back whence he came
Silent to silence, but on earth his song
Sounds and shall sound while any tyrant-wrong
Or foul hypocrisy needs be put to shame.
Bind purple amaranth in his hair whose flame
Could never burn to ash, and let the throng
Be hushed, and bear the poet's bier along
To where salt wind and sea shall bless his name.
Silent to silence, but on earth his song
Sounds and shall sound while any tyrant-wrong
Or foul hypocrisy needs be put to shame.
Bind purple amaranth in his hair whose flame
Could never burn to ash, and let the throng
Be hushed, and bear the poet's bier along
To where salt wind and sea shall bless his name.
As long as Death, the intolerable thing,
Hurts men, as long as mortals are not free,
The spirit that gave his body to the dead
Shall sure return—not yet the dawn is red,
And lo! to greet him all fair fountains spring,
All foam-flowers of the inviolable sea.
Hurts men, as long as mortals are not free,
The spirit that gave his body to the dead
Shall sure return—not yet the dawn is red,
And lo! to greet him all fair fountains spring,
All foam-flowers of the inviolable sea.
| Poems at Home and Abroad | |