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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=342092" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Sea-Swallows</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">THIS FELL when Christmas lights were done,<br>Red rose leaves will never make wine;<br>But before the Easter lights begun;<br>The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Two lovers sat where the rowan blows<br>And all the grass is heavy and fine,<br>By the gathering-place of the sea-swallows<br>When the wind brings them over Tyne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Blossom of broom will never make bread,<br>Red rose leaves will never make wine;<br>Between her brows she is grown red,<br>That was full white in the fields by Tyne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“O what is this thing ye have on,<br>Show me now, sweet daughter of mine?”<br>“O father, this is my little son<br>That I found hid in the sides of Tyne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“O what will ye give my son to eat,<br>Red rose leaves will never make wine?”<br>“Fen-water and adder’s meat,<br>The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Or what will ye get my son to wear,<br>Red rose leaves will never make wine?”<br>“A weed and a web of nettle’s hair,<br>The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Or what will ye take to line his bed,<br>Red rose leaves will never make wine?”<br>“Two black stones at the kirkwall’s head,<br>The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Or what will ye give my son for land,<br>Red rose leaves will never make wine?”<br>“Three girl’s paces of red sand,<br>The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Or what will ye give me for my son,<br>Red rose leaves will never make wine?”<br>“Six times to kiss his young mouth on,<br>The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“But what have ye done with the bearing-bread,<br>And what have ye made of the washing-wine?<br>Or where have ye made your bearing-bed,<br>To bear a son in the sides of Tyne?”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“The bearing-bread is soft and new,<br>There is no soil in the straining wine:<br>The bed was made between green and blue,<br>It stands full soft by the sides of Tyne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“The fair grass was my bearing-bread,<br>The well-water my washing-wine;<br>The low leaves were my bearing-bed,<br>And that was best in the sides of Tyne.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“O daughter, if ye have done this thing,<br>I wot the greater grief is mine;<br>This was a bitter child-bearing,<br>When ye were got by the sides of Tyne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“About the time of sea-swallows<br>That fly full thick by six and nine,<br>Ye’ll have my body out of the house,<br>To bury me by the sides of Tyne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Set nine stones by the wall for twain,<br>Red rose leaves will never make wine;<br>For the bed I take will measure ten,<br>The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Tread twelve girl’s paces out for three,<br>Red rose leaves will never make wine;<br>For the pit I made has taken me,<br>The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Algernon+Charles+Swinburne">Algernon Charles Swinburne</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=342092" data-title="The Sea-Swallows de Algernon Charles Swinburne" data-description="THIS FELL when Christmas lights were done, Red rose leaves will never make wine; But before the Easter lights begun; The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne. Two lovers sat where the rowan blows And all the grass is heavy and fine, By the g..."></div> </div> </div>
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