Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
When the game began between them for a jest,
He played king and she played queen to match the best;
Laughter soft as tears, and tears that turned to laughter,
These were things she sought for years and sorrowed after.
Pleasure with dry lips, and pain that walks by night;
All the sting and all the stain of long delight;
These were things she knew not of, that knew not of her,
When she played at half a love with half a lover.
Time was chorus, gave them cues to laugh or cry;
They would kill, befool, amuse him, let him die;
Set him webs to weave to-day and break to-morrow,
Till he died for good in play, and rose in sorrow.
What the years mean; how time dies and is not slain;
How love grows and laughs and cries and wanes again;
These were things she came to know, and take their measure,
When the play was played out so for one man's pleasure.