ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE

Thought made him and breaks him.

Truth slays and forgives; But to you, as time takes him,

This new thing it gives,

Even love, the beloved Republic, that feeds upon freedom and lives.

For truth only is living, Truth only is whole, And the love of his giving Man's polestar and pole ;

Man, pulse of my centre, and fruit of my body, and seed of my soul.

One birth of my bosom ;

One beam of mine eye; One topmost blossom

That scales the sky ;

Man, equal and one with me, man that i* made of me, man that is I.

��8 10. Ave atque

(iN MEMORY OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE)

CHALL I strew on thee rose or rue or laurel, ^ Brother, on this that was the veil of thee?

Or quiet sea-flower moulded by the sea, Or simplest growth of meadow-sweet or sorrel,

Such as the summer-sleepy Dryads weave,

Waked up by snow-soft sudden rains at eve ? Or wilt thou rather, as on earth before,

Half-faded fiery blossoms, pale with heat

And full of bitter summer, but more sweet To thee than gleanings of a northern shore

Trod by no tropic feet?

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