The Disordered Nature in the Underworld in The Garden of.
Green grapes of Proserpine, Pale beds of blowing rushes, Where no leaf blooms or blushes Save this whereout she crushes For dead men deadly wine. Pale, without name or number, In fruitless fields of corn, They bow themselves and slumber All night till light is born; And like a soul belated, In hell and heaven unmated, By cloud and mist abated.
The Garden of Prosperine by Algernon Charles Swinburne. Here, where the world is quiet, Here, where all trouble seems Dead winds' and spent waves' riot In doubtful dreams of dreams; I watch the green field growing For reaping folk and sowing, For harvest-time and mowing, A sleepy world of streams. I am tired of tears and laughter.
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Hymn to Proserpine (After the Proclamation in Rome of the Christian Faith) By Algernon Charles Swinburne About this Poet English poet and critic Algernon Charles Swinburne was born into a wealthy Northumbrian family in London, England in 1837. He was educated at Eton College and at Balliol College, Oxford, but did not complete a degree.
A Forsaken Garden. by Algernon Charles Swinburne: In a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland, At the sea-down’s edge between windward and lee, Walled round with rocks as an inland island, The ghost of a garden fronts the sea. A girdle of brushwood and thorn encloses: The steep square slope of the blossomless bed.
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Swinburne Replies (1966) and Swinburne: The Critical Heritage (1972) extremely useful in providing a helpful point of reference to contemporary Victorian reception.3 However, this is a mere sketch of books about the poet, available in the earlier part of the twentieth century, as K.H. Beetz’s A.C. Swinburne: A.