Sorrow by Algernon C. Swinburne (1837 – 1909)

When sadness subjugates us, the rest of the universe is excluded. Algernon Swinburne will not attempt to comfort us, let alone return us to our everyday cosmos.

Sadness, one of Swinburne’s most brilliant poems, does not prophesy a better future, it only confirms what we already knew: the only thing that remains, sometimes hidden throughout life, is grief.

Sorrow, on wing through the world for ever,
Here and there for awhile would borrow
Rest, if rest might haply deliver
Sorrow.

One thought lies close in her heart gnawn thorough
With pain, a weed in a dried-up river,
A rust-red share in an empty furrow.

Hearts that strain at her chain would sever
The link where yesterday frets to-morrow:
All things pass in the world, but never
Sorrow.

Sorrow by Algernon C. Swinburne

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