Share 'An Interlude, by Algernon Charles Swinburne'
IN the greenest growth of the Maytime,I rode where the woods were wet,Between the dawn and the daytime;The spring was glad that we met.
There was something the season wanted,Though the ways and the woods smelt sweet;The breath at your lips that panted,The pulse of the grass at your feet.
You came, and the sun came after,And the green grew golden above;And the flag-flowers lightene…
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