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" "Time found our tired love sleeping,
And kissed away his breath;
But what should we do weeping,
Though light love sleep to death?
We have drained his lips at leisure,
Till there's not left to drain
A single sob of pleasure,
A single pulse of pain.
Algernon Charles Swinburne (5 April 1837 – 10 April 1909) was an English poet.
Biography information from Wikiquote
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By Heaven, had I the teeth of Caucasus
Red-hot from Promethean agonies,
And tusks more lucid than the lunar snows,
On those jagged lawns of Asia, cavernous
With many a dragon banquet-eyes like those
Minerva made of flint to shatter Jove — I'd hurl their hate upon thee, and myself
Die in a red parabola of Fate! — Ernest Wheldrake, The Monomaniac's Tragedy
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