The Garden of Proserpine

By Algernon Charles Swinburne

the-garden-of-proserpineThe Abduction of Proserpine (1570 AD) by Alessandro Allori

From too much love of living,

        From hope and fear set free,

We thank with brief thanksgiving

        Whatever gods may be

That no life lives for ever;

That dead men rise up never;

That even the weariest river

        Winds somewhere safe to sea.

Then star nor sun shall waken,

        Nor any change of light:

Nor sound of waters shaken,

        Nor any sound or sight:

Nor wintry leaves nor vernal,

Nor days nor things diurnal;

Only the sleep eternal

        In an eternal night.

The last two stanzas of Swinburne’s “The Garden of Proserpine.”

Click here to read the complete poem.


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