Page:Songs of the Springtides - Swinburne (1880).pdf/65

 That gives not back what life gives death to keep; Yea, all that lived and loved and sang and sinned Are all borne down death's cold sweet soundless wind That blows all night and knows not whom its breath, Darkling, may touch to death: But one that wind hath touched and changed not,—one Whose body and soul are parcel of the sun; One that earth's fire could burn not, nor the sea Quench; nor might human doom take hold on thee; All praise, all pity, all dreams have done thee wrong, All love, with eyes love-blinded from above; Song's priestess, mad with joy and pain of love, Love's priestess, mad with pain and joy of song.

Hast thou none other answer then for me Than the air may have of thee, Or the earth's warm woodlands girdling with green girth