Page:Songs of the Springtides - Swinburne (1880).pdf/112



, born in heaven ere many a springtime flown, Dead spring that sawest on earth A babe of deathless birth, A flower of rosier flowerage than thine own, A glory of goodlier godhead; even this day, That floods the mist of February with May, And strikes death dead with sunlight, and the breath Whereby the deadly doers are done to death,