A.C. Swinburne quotes

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In a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland,
At the sea-down's edge between windward and lee,
Love is a barren sea, bitter and deep;
And though she saw all heaven in flower above,
She would not love.
And the best and the worst of this is
That neither is most to blame,
His speech is a burning fire;
With his lips he travaileth;
Come with bows bent and with emptying of quivers,
Maiden most perfect,lady of light,
When the hounds of spring are on winter's traces,
The mother of months in meadow or plain
For winter's rains and ruins are over,
And all the seasons of snows and sins;
Before the beginning of years
There came to the making of man
Hast thou found any likeness for thy vision?
O gardener of strange flowers, what bud, what bloom,
O sleepless heart and sombre soul unsleeping,
That were athirst for sleep and no more life
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