The Poetry Corner

Twins

By Algernon Charles Swinburne

Affectionately Inscribed to W.M.R. and L.R. April, on whose wings Ride all gracious things, Like the star that brings All things good to man, Ere his light, that yet Makes the month shine, set, And fair May forget Whence her birth began, Brings, as heart would choose, Sound of golden news, Bright as kindling dews When the dawn begins; Tidings clear as mirth, Sweet as air and earth Now that hail the birth, Twice thus blest, of twins. In the lovely land Where with hand in hand Lovers wedded stand Other joys before Made your mixed life sweet: Now, as Time sees meet, Three glad blossoms greet Two glad blossoms more. Fed with sun and dew, While your joys were new, First arose and grew One bright olive-shoot: Then a fair and fine Slip of warm-haired pine Felt the sweet sun shine On its leaf and fruit, And it wore for mark Graven on the dark Beauty of its bark That the noblest name Worn in song of old By the king whose bold Hand had fast in hold All the flower of fame. Then, with southern skies Flattered in her eyes, Which, in lovelier wise Yet, reflect their blue Brightened more, being bright Here with lifes delight, And with loves live light Glorified anew, Came, as fair as came One who bore her name (She that broke as flame From the swan-shell white), Crowned with tender hair Only, but more fair Than all queens that were Themes of oldworld fight, Of your flowers the third Bud, or new-fledged bird In your hearts nest heard Murmuring like a dove Bright as those that drew Over waves where blew No loud wind the blue Heaven-hued car of love. Not the glorious grace Even of that one face Potent to displace All the towers of Troy Surely shone more clear Once with childlike cheer Than this childs face here Now with living joy. After these again Here in Aprils train Breaks the bloom of twain Blossoms in one birth For a crown of May On the front of day When he takes his way Over heaven and earth. Half a heavenly thing Given from heaven to Spring By the sun her king, Half a tender toy, Seems a child of curl Yet too soft to twirl; Seems the flower-sweet girl By the flower-bright boy. All the kind gods grace, All their love, embrace Ever either face, Ever brood above them: All soft wings of hours Screen them as with flowers From all beams and showers: All lifes seasons love them. When the dews of sleep Falling lightliest keep Eyes too close to peep Forth and laugh off rest, Joy from face to feet Fill them, as is meet: Life to them be sweet As their mothers breast When those dews are dry, And in days bright eye Looking full they lie Bright as rose and pearl, All returns of joy Pure of times alloy Bless the rose-red boy, Guard the rose-white girl. POSTSCRIPT. Friends, if I could take Half a note from Blake Or but one verse make Of the Conquerors mine, Better than my best Song above your nest I would sing: the quest Now seems too divine.