T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
In the Orchard
By Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837–1909)(Provençal Burden) (From Poems and Ballads, 1866) LEAVE go my hands, let me catch breath and see; | |
| Let the dew-fall drench either side of me; | |
| Clear apple-leaves are soft upon that moon | |
| Seen sidelong like a blossom in the tree; | |
| Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon. | 5 |
| The grass is thick and cool, it lets us lie. | |
| Kissed upon either cheek and either eye, | |
| I turn to thee as some green afternoon | |
| Turns toward sunset, and is loth to die; | |
| Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon. | 10 |
| Lie closer, lean your face upon my side, | |
| Feel where the dew fell that has hardly dried, | |
| Hear how the blood beats that went nigh to swoon; | |
| The pleasure lives there when the sense has died; | |
| Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon. | 15 |
| O my fair lord, I charge you leave me this: | |
| Is it not sweeter than a foolish kiss? | |
| Nay take it then, my flower, my first in June, | |
| My rose, so like a tender mouth it is: | |
| Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon. | 20 |
| Love, till dawn sunder night from day with fire, | |
| Dividing my delight and my desire, | |
| The crescent life and love the plenilune, | |
| Love me though dusk begin and dark retire; | |
| Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon. | 25 |
| Ah, my heart fails, my blood draws back; I know, | |
| When life runs over, life is near to go; | |
| And with the slain of love love’s ways are strewn, | |
| And with their blood, if love will have it so; | |
| Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon. | 30 |
| Ah, do thy will now; slay me if thou wilt; | |
| There is no building now the walls are built, | |
| No quarrying now the corner-stone is hewn, | |
| No drinking now the vine’s whole blood is spilt; | |
| Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon. | 35 |
| Nay, slay me now; nay, for I will be slain; | |
| Pluck thy red pleasure from the teeth of pain, | |
| Break down thy vine ere yet grape-gatherers prune, | |
| Slay me ere day can slay desire again; | |
| Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon. | 40 |
| Yea, with thy sweet lips, with thy sweet sword; yea, | |
| Take life and all, for I will die, I say; | |
| Love, I gave love, is life a better boon? | |
| For sweet night’s sake I will not live till day; | |
| Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon. | 45 |
| Nay, I will sleep then only; nay, but go. | |
| Ah sweet, too sweet to me, my sweet, I know | |
| Love, sleep, and death go to the sweet same tune; | |
| Hold my hair fast, and kiss me through it so, | |
| Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon. | 50 |