ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE
And wrought with weeping and laughter,
And fashion'd with loathing and love, With life before and after
And death beneath and above, For a day and a night and a morrow,
That his strength might endure for a span With travail and heavy sorrow,
The holy spirit of man.
��From the winds of the north and the south
They gather'd as unto strife; They breathed upon his mouth,
They filled his body with life; Eyesight and speech they wrought
For the veils of the soul therein, A time for labour and thought,
A time to serve and to sin, They gave him light in his ways,
And love, and a space for delight, And beauty and length of days,
And night, and sleep in the night. His speech is a burning fire;
With his lips he travaileth; In his heart is a blind desire,
In his eyes foreknowledge of death; He weaves, and is clothed with derision;
Sows, and he shall not reap; His life is a watch or a vision
Between a sleep and a sleep.
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