Faith poems

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Siena

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

Inside this northern summer's fold
The fields are full of naked gold,
Broadcast from heaven on lands it loves;
The green veiled air is full of doves;

Christmas Antiphones

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

Thou whose birth on earth
Angels sang to men,
While thy stars made mirth,
Saviour, at thy birth,
This day born again;

Epilogue

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

Between the wave-ridge and the strand
I let you forth in sight of land,
Songs that with storm-crossed wings and eyes
Strain eastward till the darkness dies;

If any place for any soul there be,
Disrobed and disentrammelled; if the might
The fire and force that filled with ardent light
The souls whose shadow is half the light we see,
Survive and be suppressed not of the night;
This hour should show what all day hid from me.IV

A Channel Crossing

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

Forth from Calais, at dawn of night, when sunset summer on autumn shone,
Fared the steamer alert and loud through seas whence only the sun was gone:
Soft and sweet as the sky they smiled, and bade man welcome: a dim sweet hour
Gleamed and whispered in wind and sea, and heaven was fair as a field in flower,

Before A Crucifix

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

Here, down between the dusty trees,
At this lank edge of haggard wood,
Women with labour-loosened knees,
With gaunt backs bowed by servitude,
Stop, shift their loads, and pray, and fare
Forth with souls easier for the prayer.

Tiresias

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

It is an hour before the hour of dawn.
Set in mine hand my staff and leave me here
Outside the hollow house that blind men fear,
More blind than I who live on life withdrawn
And feel on eyes that see not but foresee
The shadow of death which clothes Antigone.

The Higher Pantheism in a Nutshell

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

One, who is not, we see; but one, whom we see not, is;
Surely this is not that; but that is assuredly this. What, and wherefore, and whence? for under is over and under;
If thunder could be without lightning, lightning could be without thunder. Doubt is faith in the main; but faith, on the whole, is doubt;
We cannot believe by proof; but could we believe without? Why, and whither, and how? for barley and rye are not clover;

Hymn Of Man

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

In the grey beginning of years, in the twilight of things that began,
The word of the earth in the ears of the world, was it God? was it man?
The word of the earth to the spheres her sisters, the note of her song,
The sound of her speech in the ears of the starry and sisterly throng,

Hertha

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

I AM that which began;
Out of me the years roll;
Out of me God and man;
I am equal and whole;
God changes, and man, and the form of them bodily; I am the soul.

The Pilgrims

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

Who is your lady of love, O ye that pass
Singing? and is it for sorrow of that which was
That ye sing sadly, or dream of what shall be?
For gladly at once and sadly it seems ye sing.

Eros

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

Eros, from rest in isles far-famed,
With rising Anthesterion rose,
And all Hellenic heights acclaimed
Eros.

A Watch In The Night

Watchman, what of the night? -
Storm and thunder and rain,
Lights that waver and wane,
Leaving the watchfires unlit.

Hymn to Proserpine (After the Proclamation of the Christian

Vicisti, Galilæe
I have lived long enough, having seen one thing, that love hath an end;
Goddess and maiden and queen, be near me now and befriend.
Thou art more than the day or the morrow, the seasons that laugh or that weep;

A New Year's Message To Joseph Mazzini

Send the stars light, but send not love to me.
Shelley.IOut of the dawning heavens that hear
Young wings and feet of the new year
Move through their twilight, and shed round

Messidor

Put in the sickles and reap;
For the morning of harvest is red,
And the long large ranks of the corn
Coloured and clothed as the morn

Four Songs Of Four Seasons

If this be the rose that the world hears singing,
Soft in the soft night, loud in the day,
Songs for the fireflies to dance as they hear;
If that be the song of the nightingale, springing
Forth in the form of a rose in May,
What do they say of the way of the year?