O all fair lovers about the world, There is none of you, none, that shall comfort me. My thoughts are as dead things, wrecked and whirled. Round and round in a gulf of the sea; And still, through the sound and the straining stream, Through the coil and chafe, they gleam in a dream, The bright fine lips so cruelly curled, And strange swift eyes where the soul sits free.
Algernon Charles SwinburneAbout author
- Author's profession: Poet
- Nationality: english
- Born: April 5, 1837
- Died: April 10, 1909
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