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A poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne |
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At A Dog's Grave |
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Title: At A Dog's Grave Author: Algernon Charles Swinburne [More Titles by Swinburne] I Good night, we say, when comes the time to win The shadow shed round those we love shines bright Shall friends born lower in life, though pure of sin,
To die a dog's death once was held for shame. His years were full: his years were joyous: why If aught of blameless life on earth may claim
White violets, there by hands more sweet than they A child's light hands, whose touch makes flowers more fair, It shall not like a blossom pass away; [The end] GO TO TOP OF SCREEN |